Twenty Six Miles
by isawsparks
Summary: Spashley. AU. A bit different. A bit intense.
1. Names

Pink cheeks hidden beneath golden skin. Piercing blue eyes. Crooked red smile with perfectly white teeth.

They're all hers and oddly they're all mine. They've been my map. My compass. My umbrella. My sunshine and my rain. Everything that you can imagine, she's been it. All that is her is everything to me.

And right now I can't see it. It's all turned away from me. Blond hair's the only thing facing my way. Highlighted white from the combination of salt water and the sun. I can see brave strands swirling in the breeze with absolute grace and ease.

Just like her. Careening through life with complete grace and ease.

A smirk finds it's way to my lips as I let my body lean against the open doorway. The afternoon breeze catching my own curls, a few fallen pieces from my loose bun sweeping across my face. I don't even bother trying to control them. I don't even try to stop the pieces from going wild.

Just like me. I've never tried to control or stop her and I've never wanted to. I've never wanted to tame her fire.

She's sitting on her favorite lounge chair on our balcony deck. Bikini clad body safely wrapped in an ancient blanket. Wrapped inside the afghan her grandmother made her when she was five. The one she always has with her. It's her comfort food. It's her treasured photo ablum. It's her favorite song.

She's sitting there inside her little cocoon, inside her own little world, just taking in the view over the railing. Taking in the beautiful landscape before her. A green expanse of trees with a random rooftop peaking through here and there. In the distance you can make out the beach. The beach we just spent our lazy Sunday afternoon on. Our favorite beach.

All because it's ours. It's our beach. Our names have been endlessly traced in the sand there. Traced with our salty toes. Sure the ocean claims those letters every night. But we'll always come back to draw them there again. We'll take back what is ours. What's always been and always will be ours.

Once again she dragged me into the water to teach me her life passion. And once again I failed miserably. I barely managed to stand five seconds before the board slipped from beneath me, pulling my ankle with it as I crashed into the water. She adorably stifled a giggle as she fell back into coach mode. Cheering me on with empty words and useless motivation because we both knew it was pointless. This was not my place. It was hers. I gave it a shot for her and I'll always keep trying. But eventually enough was enough. I finally threw in the towel and decided to literally lay on one. Doing what I do best; relaxing and sunbathing.

Meanwhile she went on to do what she does best; tearing through the rest of the afternoon. Just her and that beloved Roxy board, taking on the rest of the day. Wave for wave, minute after minute. I'd sneak glances at her often. Even when I didn't realize I was watching. I just couldn't help myself from looking at the sight before me. Looking at her effortlessly ripping through the water.

Damn she's good and she's mine.

While waiting for the next wave, her next big chance to show off, she'd straddle her board. Letting the water rock her gently, as she'd glimpse back at me. Her face never without that child-like smile, always blowing me an animated kiss, before going to paddle for another wave.

Yeah. Today was a good day. A really good day.

I cross my arms as I see her stir, toes stretching out beneath the beloved quilt. Any minute now she'll feel my gaze on her. She always does. I do this a lot. Stepping back and taking in the view. And I don't mean the one she's admiring from this balcony.

I stand back and take in my view. Soak in all that I have, and all that I've been blessed with. And of course she is at the forefront.

Finally I see her gorgeous face, complete with beach hair and bright eyes as she leans up, turning her head. Her eyes already know what they're going to find, and so does her mouth as it forms her trademark goofy smile. The one that never fails to make me smile. The one that makes me want to crawl right into her arms and never leave them. I'm seconds away from falling inside that safe haven, but remain where I am for a moment. My head leans to the side as I just watch her.

Her hand sneaks up in front of her face as one innocent finger beckons me over. I feel my cheeks dimple as a light chuckle floats from me to her. Her head tilts to the side, pointer finger still inviting me to join her.

"God, I love you."

The words are breathy and honest. So painfully honest.

Her fingers remain in her fist as her eyes say "I love you too". As her mouth hangs open, jaw crooked from her sideways smile. I freeze that image in my mind. I hold onto it for as long as I can. Letting it drip deep inside me.

I never want to let it go and I never will.

"Ashley."

My lips curl as I go to step towards her. I don't however, because I can't. My body is frozen. She giggles and all I want to do is go to her. Fear creeps it's way into my bones. I'm paralyzed.

"Ashley."

I feel a light hand on my shoulder. It's shaking me. It's pulling me away from her. I want it to stop.

"Ashley?"

Finally I turn around and face the voice. My eyes are strangely heavy. Like I've been sleeping. I see her face and it hits me. I realize that's exactly what I've been doing. I have been sleeping. I've been sleeping my favorite dream and now I've woken up to my living nightmare. That same nauseating beep punctuates the air as the stale sunlight streaks through the blinds on the window.

There are those blue eyes politely looking down on me. Filled with just the right amount of concern. Those same eyes that hit too close to home. The ones that are hers but could never match them. They're merely ghosts of her eyes. They're ghosts that haunt me and taunt me with what they'll never be.

"How you feeling today?"

I blankly stare at her, almost as if I didn't hear her. She doesn't hide the fact she knows I'm not going to answer. I never have and today isn't the day I'm going to start. She lightly smiles as she adjusts some machines, writing something down on a clip board.

I keep my eyes on her boring blue name tag, before I face the window again. Feeling the few lines of light on my cold skin. It does nothing to warm me. It does nothing to comfort me.

The same sun that once shone so many amazing memories into my life is now a stranger. I hate that sun. I hate that it can't bring them back. It can't bring me back to that beach. It'll never shine on our names in the sand again.

I feel that uninvited sting in my eyes. The one that taps on my shoulder, whispers in my ear that the tears are on their way. My eyes hop from side to side, as if they could run away from it. As if it were a game of tag. I purse my lips together so tightly my chin almost starts shaking. Somehow it's working though, somehow I've managed to compose myself.

And then I feel it. My broken body comes to life once again. The dull ache in my bones, the sharp pain of my cuts and bruises. The tightness of the skin around them. The physical scars of all that happened. The scars that will now shine new memories into my life. The scars that will forever be with me. Unlike her. These scars will see days, months, and years that she'll never see. They're going to outlive her. I'm going to outlive her. I already have.

My head falls to the side as the realization hits me. The realization of all I've lost. My map, compass, umbrella, sunshine, and rain. All those things that kept me together, kept me safe, and lead me home. I've lost them and with it I've lost myself.

My view's been taken away. I have no view. There's nothing to look at. No reason to stand back and admire what's before me. There's no point. I'm never going to see her. I'm never going to find her.

She's really gone. Cherry lips and aqua eyes. They're gone. They're things of the past. All I see now when I look before me are these dull wallpaper covered walls.

No stopping the tears now. No use in trying either. I let them cascade down my cheeks, a slow and steady river pouring from my eyes. Silently dying inside as each one drops to my hospital gown.

I feel a hand on my bare arm. It's obviously hers and as much as I don't want to look her way, I have to.

She's all I have now. She's all I got.

I turn and look at the one remaining familiar object in my life. That jaded name tag. It's become my safe place. Cause those eyes are too dangerous. They only remind me more and more of what I'll never see again. So I stare at what I have left. What I'll always have as long as I'm in this bed.

She's my nurse and she visits me every day. She visits me a lot. She's the one that changes my bandages. She tends to my abrasions on the outside and tries to tend to the ones on the inside, below the surface. She closes my wounds and tries to open the larger one deep inside my heart. She's hasn't gotten anywhere near it, but it hasn't stopped her.

She's the one who told me what each day would bring. What surgery I would need. What broken rib had healed. She's the one with the answers. She's the one who tells me I'm still breathing. She's the one that makes sure my hearts still beating.

"I'll see you in a little bit for dinner, Ashley."

I keep my eyes on her plastic name tag for as long as I can. Eying every groove and curve before she turns and walks away. My eyes close and I can still make out the outlines of each letter. The transparent tracings of Spencer written inside my eye lids. Written against them like chalk, just waiting to be wiped away. Just like those letters toed in the sand waiting to be washed away. Her name is washing away too, fading away with every passing second.

But just like those names, hers will resurface. That plastic name clipped to her shirt will blind me again as she checks in on me. As Spencer reminds me I'm still alive. And just like every other time, I won't believe her. Just like every other time, I'll search for something to prove her wrong.

Cause every time Spencer reminds me I'm still alive, I only feel more dead inside.


	2. Ten Seconds

People think ten seconds isn't a long time. And they're right, it's not. But a lot can happen during ten seconds. Good and bad. Life can change in ten seconds.

Mine did. Ten seconds has changed my life many times.

The first of which happened in 1992. A lot of things happened in 1992. Bill Clinton became president. Riots broke out in L.A. Jay Leno took over the Tonight Show. The Redskins won the super bowl. The Blue Jays won the World series.

But they didn't matter as much as those ten seconds where I met her. Where I met my best friend. Where I found my other half.

Ten years old and I found her, or maybe she found me. Either way, we found each other. And that's all that matters. Our fathers grew up together. Rock star Danger Davies and surf legend Jamie Carhart. Surprising even themselves with how they became friends. One man all energy and chaos, the other all peace and harmony. They were the kind of friends who could go years without seeing each other. Then one day life would bring them together again and it was as if nothing had changed.

May 21, 1992 was the day life wanted them to meet again. It had been two years since they last saw each other. Jamie's first surf circuit after a three year break was just beginning. The kick off was at Huntington Beach for it's annual surf competition. Jamie invited Dad, and surprisingly he could go. Surprisingly he wanted to. He invited me to come along, and normally I would have done anything to get out of it, but if my dad was there, I was there too. I was 100 there. Wearing my favorite polka dot skirt. Happy, ecstatic, cheeks threatening to crack from smiling so widely.

I remember the exact moment I saw her. A gust of wind blew the ocean air across my face, almost like it was beckoning me to look her way. Beckoning my eyes to wander down the beach a little ways. Through the swarms of people, through the laughter, through the waves, I saw her. A mop of bleach blond hair and a mouth full of teeth barreling our way. Dad was telling some story about him and Jamie, when they were my age. But with each step she took towards us, his words took one in the opposite direction. Everything was moving away from us. For ten seconds there was nothing outside myself and this girl running through the sand. Slippery hands going to unzip a wet suit. I found it odd she'd wear one on day as balmy as this.

Ten seconds and she already had me curious.

Board tucked beneath her arm, she ran and unzipped her suit all at once, golden skin beneath a colorful bikini partially exposed. You could tell she was someone who tanned easily. You could also see the trait was lost in the fact that she was never not tan. There was never a period of time where she could easily tan cause she already was. Her body had been permanently tattooed with the sun's love.

The world slowly started coloring itself in again when she reached us. Somehow those colors shone brighter with her there.

"Hi Mr. Davies"

A squeaky voice filled the air.

"Hey there Shawn..." my dad's hand softly sat on my back as he shook her hand, "...I'd like you to meet my daughter Ashley."

"Hi."

My own squeaky voice filled the air. But mine was more shy. More nervous. Less fun.

"Hi Ashley."

She had a silly smile on her face. One I matched as our hands met.

"So you ready to watch your dad blow these guys out of the water?" My dads old and worn in voice interrupted the easy silence.

"Definitely."

She shook her head to the side, sending a large clump of wet hair in the other direction. Even through the dampness I could tell her hair had no definitive length. Sections ran longer and shorter than others. Almost as if she cut it herself but never finished the job. Something more exciting always came along and prevented her from cutting it all. I'm sure she didn't mind, though. I'm sure she liked it that way.

And the strange thing was I liked it too. I was a girly girl. I was a princess. But there I was staring at this girl who was the complete opposite of me, and somehow, I found myself there. I was staring at this stranger with her short messy hair, ugly black suit covering half her body, and I was comforted. I was curious. I felt happy. I felt alive.

I wanted more.

I wanted more from a girl who looked nothing like one. A girl who's tall and lean body was the opposite of everything a girl should be. It was everything a boy should be. She could have easily been a boy. But that's where it didn't matter. It didn't cover up one obvious fact. It didn't hide what shone so brightly in front of me.

Shawn Carhart, with her boy name and body, was still the prettiest girl I'd ever seen.

"I was gonna go sit with my mom" her eyes squinted, almost like she was going to tell me a secret. "It's closer to the water."

"Oh." The tiniest hint of sadness in my voice.

Her eyes perked up, that silly smile formed on her face again, one that I noticed made her left cheek dimple. "Wanna come?"

"Yeah" I giggled a little, "that sounds cool."

She did the hair thing again. Where she whipped it all to the other side of her face with such ease. It was like she didn't care about anything. She was so laid back. I loved it.

We walked side by side through the crowd. I could feel tears of water dropping on my body every now and then. No doubt coming from her. Like little gifts from her to me. Each one I felt only made my smile grow.

As I lie here, if I try hard enough I can still feel them. I can still feel all of her little gifts. But with each beep in this depressing room, they grow farther away. Each beep of my heart sends every one of her drops of water farther away. By simply living, everything I had with her moves farther and farther in the past. I hate that beeping. I hate having to hear my heart still beating. Hearing it push everything else away.

I wince, I can't tell if it's from the thought or my knee. My shattered knee. My knee that's kept me right in this hospital bed.

"Dreaming?"

She's here again. Spencer. I'll wake up some nights and she's sitting with me. It used to be once and while, but she does it more often now. Ever since the visitors stopped pouring through the door. Maybe she feels bad for me.

Hell I feel bad for me.

Most times she's reading through a book. Sometimes she looks like she's working. You know, making sure I'm still alive. Making sure that cruel heart still beats inside my barren chest. Cruelly echoing through the emptiness that now rests there, inside my body.

At first I found it weird that she'd sit with me. I never talk to her. I never answer her questions. I usually weep and soak my face with tears. But somehow she stays with me. She sits there like a night light. And that's exactly what she's become. At first I hated her light shining on me from that uncomfortable bed side chair.

But now the times I wake up and find that same chair empty, I don't like it. Just like a little kid who's night light has been turned off, I'm scared.

I glance at the clock on the wall. 11:47. I haven't even made it past the day I'm trying to sleep through and I've already woken up. I really should sleep. I really need to. As Spencer has told me countless times, my therapy starts tomorrow. My physical therapy. The one that's gonna teach me to walk again.

Just like a baby. Fitting since that's kind of what I am now. I've lost everything. The life I had died weeks ago, and now I have to start again. I have to learn everything all over. I have to do it all on my own. And I really don't want to. I really really don't want to. I don't want another life.

"Ready for tomorrow?"

Of course she'd remind me that whether I want to or not, I'm going to start another life any way. No matter how hard I try to stop it, life is going to go on. It already is.

She keeps her eyes on me, book folded in her lap, simple hands held on top of it. A calm smile on her face that amazes me. Oddly she looks at me as if I might answer. Like she's waiting on it this time. And for once, I figure why not.

"I guess."

The words are choked, broken, rough, and scratchy. Almost like I've surprised even my own voice by using it. Like I've woken it up from a peaceful sleep, a far too comfortable sleep. With how low my voice is, I'm afraid if I had let it lie there under comfortable covers any longer I'd completely forget how to use it.

But she heard me. She heard me loud and clear. Relief registered all over her face, almost like she was afraid too. She was afraid I might never use that voice again.

"Good."

Her mouth forms a smile around the word. Normally I'd hate it. I'd hate anyone who showed any form of happiness inside this room. This room with it's plastic blinds and flowers on the walls. Walls with all my misfortune scattered on them, beneath the flowers. Windows that shine my disaster on me, masked by the warmth of the sun.

No one should smile in this room. But she does. And I let her.

"Well then I'll see you tomorrow Ashley."

She stands and looks down on me for a beat, weighing the possibility that I might say something again. But I'm not going to. I've said all I can for today. She knows it too, smile forming tighter on her lips. She nods lightly and walks out.

The room's darker now. I'm the kid who's parent sneakily switched off the light while they were sleeping. My head lolls to the side, tears creeping from my eyes like a leaky faucet. A faucet that's leaked for so long no one even notices the water dripping from it. No one sees how broken it is because they can't remember a time where it wasn't broken. And no one really cares to fix it.

I'm that leaky faucet. But something tells me someone cares to fix this one. Something tells me she's going to keep twisting and turning it until it works again. And something tells me she just walked out of this room.

Somehow the thought closes my eyes. I think it might have even stopped the tears, but I really can't tell. I can't tell any more when they've stopped. I never know when they're pouring from these sad eyes. Just like that leaky faucet.

The same dull ache spreads across my back as I try to fall back asleep. Those drops of water from 1992 are lightly tapping on my skin again. The ones that made me smile so long ago. They're whispering against me now. As if they're trying to help soothe the pain. As if they're going to take me away from this place. They're going to help me forget this bed and this room. My eyelids grow heavier as the water skids harder across my skin. I feel my shattered body leaving this room once again.

I'm so close to her now. I can see that dimple, that shaggy hair, those squinting eyes. She's laughing and running towards the water. One last glimpse back at me before she dives into the ocean. Her giggling echoes all around me as I wait for her to resurface. As I wait for her body to spring out of that water. Wait to see her head flick from side to side, sending her hair in all different directions.

But she's not going to. I know she's not. For some reason I'm still lying in this bed with my eyes screwed shut. Praying that she'll appear. Praying she'll shoot out of that water. But I know she's not going to.

My eyes fly open. She's not here. I'm not on that beach. Those drops of water are gone.

It's been fourteen years since that first day on the beach. When I met her. When I met my other half. When I fell in love with her.

It only took 10 seconds.

Now I lie here in this cold and dark room fourteen years later. Alone. My best friend. My everything. She's gone. My other half. She was ripped right from me.

And it only took 10 seconds.


	3. Smiles

I smiled today. Closed mouthed and small. But a smile none the less. Spencer's face suddenly appeared and there it was. The corners of my mouth were actually turning up.

It threw me. I'm not supposed to smile. I'm not supposed to be happy. But for the briefest moment, I was.

She's now sitting beside me. She didn't say anything this time when she came in the room. Just silently pulled her chair next to my bed and sat down. She smiled at me, a little wider than she normally does. I think she saw my brief moment too.

The afternoon sun filters through the trees causing splinters of light to pierce through the window. The room is stuffy and the gentle breeze flowing past the blinds does nothing to lift the air's weight. We sit there for a few moments in the silence. The silence that has become so customary for us. So easy. So natural. Sometimes I wonder if it'll remain silent forever.

And I'm not sure I want it to.

"So how was today?"

She's always the one to break the ice, even when she knows no one is going to come along and pull her back through it. She always breaks through the ice even when she knows she'll probably be left there in the cold empty water by herself.

And I'm not sure I like her there.

"It was ok."

I can see she's happy to hear it, not for the words, but for simply hearing my voice. For knowing I heard her.

"Yeah? Josh is a pretty nice guy, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is."

Josh is my physical therapist. I just got back from my first session with him a little awhile ago. He's nice and funny and I hate him. He pushes me. He helps bend my leg and stretch it out. He coaches me through the simple action of walking. He motivates me through my frustration. He helps me through my pain. But it never goes away. It only heightens as the simple action becomes harder. As my leg stiffens and the pain shoots through my veins. As the memories of all I've lost boils to the surface.

But he's still there. Funny and nice Josh is still there pushing me through it all. Forcing me through it. I pray that it gets easier. I pray that he's funny and nice enough to make it easier.

Or maybe I pray I'm strong enough. Strong enough, inside and out, to get through it.

I glance over towards her and find her flipping through the same book again. I guess she figures I've finished my talking for the day. But I'm not so sure about that. I'm not so sure I want to stop talking.

"It's Spencer, right?"

Her surprised eyes shift from the pages so easily. I can see her teeth below her smile. They're perfect.

"Yup." Her mouth remains slightly open as she nods.

"Why do you stay here with me?"

The words could've been rude, but my tone is one of friendly curiosity. I'm happy for it. I don't want her to think I don't like it. I don't want her to stop coming into my room at night.

She giggles slightly, eyebrows raised. "You trying to get rid of me?"

"No, no, not at all" I quickly interject, but she keeps smiling and chuckling.

"It's ok." She crosses her legs, holding the book in her lap, her face softens. She takes a few moments, almost like she's collecting her thoughts, before she speaks again.

"When I was nine, I had to have my tonsils taken out and ended up staying overnight in the hospital."

I'm not sure where she's going with this, but I don't mind. I'm curious. And I like her voice.

"It really sucked. I was all alone. Even though my mom worked at the same hospital, I still felt so alone. I kept waking up during the night in my cold room. It was so dark. It was awful." Her eyes squint every now and then and it reminds me of so much. Her eyes hold so much behind them, so much more then she even realizes. Meaning so much to only me.

"But then I woke up and the room was brighter, I wasn't so alone. There was this nurse there, checking my vitals. She didn't say anything when she caught my eyes. She just smiled. I'm not sure if she had to, but she hung around the room a little longer, just checking machines, writing things down. I remember falling back to sleep so easily, feeling so calm and relaxed. The next time I woke up it was morning..."

She pauses, a slow smile crawling across her lips, eyes looking sincerely into mine.

"...suddenly I didn't feel so alone."

We hold each others stare and I get it. I understand. I appreciatively smile at her. We remain there for a few moments. Stillness faling on us once again and it's ok.

"What do you say we take a break from this place and get some fresh air?"

Fresh air. It seems so foreign. The whole concept has practically been lost on me. I've been drowning in this room with it's thick and stifling air. I forget what fresh anything is.

"Yeah, ok."

She wheels me down endless halls with nameless rooms. I hate hospitals. Life begins and ends in these endless halls with nameless rooms. And somehow I've managed to do both.

We slide into an elevator, just the two of us. It's completely silent. No constant beeping inside here and I love it.

"I don't understand where the expression 'elevator music' comes from. Seems to me elevators are always silent when I get in them. Elevator music is supposed to be like soft rock, right?"

Somewhere deep inside I find a giggle and let it out. Surprising even myself. I really have no clue what brought this up, this strange topic of conversation. But I don't mind. I actually find myself liking it.

"Well..." she rocks my chair a little, I'm sure she doesn't even notice she's doing it, she's so lost in her spoken train of thought, "...I think it should be called dentist music, cause seriously, every time I go to the dentist the music is always something from before 1998. You know?"

A happy "yeah" leaves my lips and I find myself giggling again as the elevator doors open. I shouldn't be laughing. I shouldn't be smiling. I should feel guilty. But I am laughing. I am smiling. And I don't feel guilty.

She's a strange and funny girl, this Spencer. But I think I like her. I think I might try talking with her more often. I don't think it'll remain silent between us forever.

She rolls me around expertly, heading towards large sliding doors. They seem to lead to some sort of quad in the center of the hospital, an open area with benches and trees. Flowers and grass. I can vaguely see some people scattered about through the glass.

The doors automatically open and the air hits me like a thousand buckets of cold water.

Suddenly Shawn's all around me. She's in that cold water, this fresh air, these green trees, this warm sunlight. She's pouring down on me. Everything I've been missing is staring me right in the face. Punching me right in the gut. I can smell palm trees and pollen in the air. I can hear cars driving places.

I'm in complete sensory overload, and it's only getting worse. It only hits harder as the faintest trace of a fire fills the air. I don't know where it's coming from, or what's caused it. All I know is what it reminds me of and where it's taking me.

I can almost feel the warmth of the fire from this chair. My nostrils are almost burning from the sharp smell. I close my eyes and I'm there. Suddenly I'm right back there.

Bonfires on the beach. Our nightly summer ritual. Mostly all surfers, and mostly all boys. We were practically the only two girls there. But it didn't matter. They loved us and we loved them.

Fifteen years old and we knew everything. Reckless and free. We knew what life was all about. Invisible and untouchable. We knew exactly what the world owed us. We knew exactly what each of us would become.

We didn't know anything at all.

We'd round up a few thirties of Milwaukee's Best. Bought by one of our older friends or some bum outside the liquor store who got to "keep the change". We thought we were so cool when we called it the Beast like our big brothers.

Someone would bring a guitar. Shawn would always push it into my shy hands and force me to play. Shy hands turned expert when everyone clapped and cheered me on. When everyone loved me.

When she cheered loudest. When she loved me most.

They were some of the best nights of my life. Nothing mattered during those breezy nights. There was always another beer. There was always laughter. Your favorite song always played. You were always surrounded by good people.

And then on one of those nights everything changed. Just like any other night, the fire roared on. One of the boys always made sure of it. Music played. Beers disappeared. People came and went. There were a few of us sitting around the warmth, like moths to a flame.

She was right with me. Right by my side. She always was. She leaned over and took my hand in hers and whispered "Come on."

Barefoot and drunk, we stumbled away from the cracking and popping of the fire. Stumbled away from the group, away from the sloppy boys. She walked me down to the water where the sand was cold and hard.

Hand still in mine, we fell to the ground with a muted thud, our laughter lifting our hearts. We sat there side by side as our hands released from each other. It was cooler down there, you could feel the salt in the air, could feel it falling softly on your skin. Making it sticky.

I was cold in my skirt and long sleeved t-shirt. She noticed.

"Cold?"

I glanced over towards her, lazy smile living on my lips. I knew it was from the beer. I nodded slowly, as she looked out to the water, lips curled in a small smile.

"Come 'ere"

Her arm opened and invited me beneath it, right into the warmth and comfort of her body. I gladly accepted the invitation and rested my head on her hard shoulder.

We sat there like that, letting the gentle breeze blow over us. The voices and cheers from behind us grew fainter and fainter. The group behind us faded away with each crashing wave. The waves that drowned out that other world. The waves that isolated us inside ours.

"He likes you, you know."

Her voice was soft.

"Who?"

I knew exactly who she was talking about but I played along. She laughed cause she knew it. She always had me figured out.

"Justin."

My eyes rolled and a low moan left my body as I moved away from her warmth.

"Whatever." I sighed and fell down to the damp sand.

She was testing me. But there was only one person I liked. One person I wanted. I knew it. And she knew it too.

At least I thought she did.

I pulled a heavy arm over my forehead, letting the back of my hand rest there. We sat there in the stillness of that perfect night. I cast my eyes to the side and saw her dark form sitting there. Her blue hoodie blended in with the night time sky. I could barely make out her head beneath the hood. She sat there, knees pressed against her chest, as she looked out over the ocean.

At least I thought she was looking there.

My eyes softly closed as I felt her finger lightly skid across my bare leg. She traced letters into my shin. Playing one of our favorite games; "Guess What I'm Writing."

I could hear Luke shouting in the background. The words "dude", "bro", and "gnarly" were the only coherent ones coming from his slurred voice.

"Luke is a tool" was softly etched across my skin. The first phrase of the game and I got it right away with a laugh and a "Oh yeah."

I heard her snicker and peaked my eyes her way. She had her fist against her lips, drunkingly laughing into it, as her eyes remained on my legs. She was adorable.

Her laughter subsided with the tide, as she looked back towards it. She looked like she was thinking about something. I closed my eyes again, loving the warmth of her hand pressed against my leg. She started tracing again. My mouth formed a large smile as she finished the last letter. I knew exactly what she wrote. I knew it and felt it deep inside my chest.

"I'm sorry..." a low chuckle "...I didn't get that one. Could you do it again?"

But I loved to play with her. I loved making her say it again. I wanted her to say it again. My mouth opened with a sly giggle. But wet lips covered my laughter. Soft lips awkwardly pressed against my teeth. And before I had a chance to slide mine down to hers, they were gone.

I opened my eyes and found her right where I last found her. Hooded face turned away from me, looking out across the water. My hand still rested across my forehead. Her hand still sat on my knee. The pads of her fingers stuck to my skin. Everything was the same. It was as if it never happened. I started to believe it hadn't.

Then she glimpsed back at me. The moon shone dully on her face, making her teeth look whiter than they were. She gave me that goofy smile and practically laughed.

"I love you, Ash."

Her voice spoke her traced words as she faced the ocean once again. She didn't look back at me. I didn't move beside her. I just remained where I was. Neither one of us did anything. I don't know why.

I lied there so still. Her words rang in my ears as I tasted them in my mouth. I smiled and finally said it back.

"I love you too."

But I said it softly. Too softly. A hushed whisper. The words merely floated from my lips, hanging out there between us, waiting for her to hear them. Waiting for her to find them. But I don't think she ever did. I don't think she ever could. The waves got to them first. The crashing waves snatched the words before she ever had a chance to hear them.

The waves washed them away like our names in the sand.

Her hand's not there anymore. My back's not pressed against the hard sand. I can't smell the fire. The voices are so far away. The suns in my eyes. Birds are chirping in my ears. I'm right back in that chair. I hear Spencer's voice mingling with the honking cars.

I feel the tears. I feel them hotly sliding down my cheeks, dripping off my lips. And as I hear Spencer's voice. As I think of our moment. I cry harder. The tears burn my skin. They cut inside my chest. Those moments from before, the ones of smiling and giggling, they just caught up with me. I'm not supposed to smile. I'm not supposed to laugh.

Suddenly I can't breathe. I'm drowning. I'm drowning in my tears. But it's so much more than my tears. Something bigger is weighing me down. And suddenly I realize it. I realize it's not my tears holding me under water.

It's my own guilt.


	4. Lilies

I've always loved lilies. That's probably why my sister sent them to me. Kyla knows they're my favorite. But she hardly knows the reason why.

I'm sitting in a chair by the window. The one that's not Spencers. Hers is empty. Hers is just waiting for whenever she comes back. I'm sitting in my chair. My chair that's oddly waiting for her too. Waiting for her light to shine back inside this dark room. For her light to shine on it.

For her light to shine on me.

We talk a lot. Well she talks, I mainly listen. But that's ok with us. That's perfect with me. We've kept our conversations inside the hospital. I haven't been outside in the quad all that much. I haven't gone out there at all. It's too dangerous. There's too much out there. I've been so safe in here. For once this room brings me comfort. Hides me from the truth. Hides me from the past.

But of course the past found it's way inside here. The past is all around me once again. Those lilies. They crept in here while I was sleeping. And now the vase I'm staring at yanks me right from this room. My favorite flower is now dragging me by my shirt collar. Dragging me back to one of my favorite times.

I gently remove a yellow one from the bittersweet batch. I twirl it between my thumb and pointer finger. I roll it over and over my jaded skin. I roll it over and over till I feel it's life. Till I feel it's freshness rub right on me. As I feel the past completely spill all over my head. All from a simple flower.

Oh but it's not simple. It's my favorite. And only I know the reason. Only we know the reason. I swear I can hear the waves from here.

"You have fun tonight?"

I glimpsed over towards her with a loose smile on my lips.

"You mean last night..."

She rolled her eyes in the way she always did and stood up. I watched her kick her way through the sand down to the water. Her tiny frame became more lost the farther she got from me. Her form started to blend right in with the dusky sky before us.

She was so beautiful that night. The night before. On prom night. We didn't want to go. We complained and bitched about it every passing minute we could. Every minute until we actually went.

We weren't prom people. We so weren't prom people. We had such wonderful plans for the night, but then the guys asked us. Justin and Colby asked and we realized we were also people who couldn't say no. We so weren't people who could say no. Especially to a friend.

So there we were, getting ready for what we hated. There we were, getting excited for what we thought we were dreading.

I'll never forget the way my heart stopped when Justin and I showed up at her house. When I saw her in her dress. Shawn in a dress. I almost couldn't believe it. The girl with the shaggy hair was nowhere to be found. The girl in a half done up wet suit had disappeared. But both girls were absolutely gorgeous. She was still the prettiest girl I'd ever seen.

I almost forgot she wasn't my date. Almost. I felt a twinge of envy shoot right up my spine when Colby placed the corsage around her wrist. I can still feel that twinge today if I try hard enough.

Prom was actually amazing. We actually had fun. Suddenly we were prom people. Even if it was only for a few hours. A few hours until we went back. A few hours until Parker's after party came along and we turned back to our former selves. Like Cinderella, as soon as we lost the dresses, we lost the prom. Once again we were us. Us in our jeans and flip flops. Once again we were Ashley and Shawn.

But she was still beautiful. She was still prom gorgeous. And I felt it. I felt it that whole night.

We laughed into each others arms. We kicked ass at beer pong. We had those long talks on the back deck. You know the ones. Where you confide all your deep and mushy feelings. When you just can't say I love you strong enough. Hard enough. When you have to keep saying it because It never sounds quite right. It never says it as much as you feel it.

And I felt it that night. I so felt it. I still feel it.

We both looked out to the sky at the same time. We both noticed that familiar shade of blue and found each others eyes. We both smiled and whispered "beach sunrise?"

The look on Justin and Colby's faces as we ran out the front door was priceless. Their disappointed faces behind our linked hands was enough to make the night one of the best ever. But they certainly weren't what made it the most amazing night of my life.

"It's almost time."

I tilted my head back and found her standing over me. Her arms were pulled back behind her, and as always she had my smile on. She wore the one only I knew so well.

I patted a spot on the big blanket and she softly sat beside me. Her shoulder pressed into me as she did it. I lost my stomach in that moment. I lost it and I don't know if I ever really found it again.

"Yeah it is..." I finally took my eyes off her and looked towards the ocean "...only a few minutes, I'd say."

"Sometimes I wish I lived on the east coast"

My eyes darted through her. She felt them. She laughed.

"I mean just so I could see a real sunrise. So I could see the sun rise over the water." Even though her eyes were on me the whole time, they suddenly pierced through me. "Believe me, Ash, my heart's on this coast."

The air became so heavy in that moment. So heavy. Like when it drizzles out. When the rain just hangs all around you. When the water is the air you breathe.

I couldn't hold it much longer. I couldn't let it all just hang around me. I had to let the drops hit the ground. I turned away. I swiveled around and faced the orange sky.

Suddenly a yellow lily found it's way in front of me. A yellow lily crept it's way into my hands. Once again, a yellow lily pulled me out of everything I was hiding from.

"Where'd you get this?" I kept my eyes on it's petals. I was too afraid to look anywhere else.

"Oh that is a secret, Miss Davies."

She leaned over me, still facing the opposite direction. Her hand went to the other side of my legs, as her body hung over my lap. As her face sat right in front of mine.

"Three years ago I told you I loved you, Ashley."

I was forced to look at her then. I slowly nodded, a tiny "yeah, I think I remember that" fell from my soft smile.

She giggled, but I could still feel the intensity in her eyes. I could still feel the moment that was unfolding all around us. The moment where everything was going to change.

"I still love you Ashley."

I held my breath. I stared into her eyes. I heard the sea gulls behind me. I could see the orange sun sneaking up in the distance. This was different then the "I love you"s on the deck. This was different than all the drunken times before. This time the words said everything she felt. This time you could actually feel every letter. This time I wanted her to feel the same. This time I finally said it.

"I love you too."

And this time she heard me. Nothing could wash away the words. She heard them and she felt them. She smiled. Her crooked teeth never looked more perfect. I moved my hand to her face and pulled a loose strand behind her ear.

We kissed. We kissed slow. We kissed long. I don't know if it was from all the beers we drank before. I don't know if it was because it was morning and we hadn't slept. But our kisses dragged on in the most delicious way.

Almost like we were toeing what we thought might be cold water. Like we were too afraid to let our warm bodies jump right in. But eventually we did jump. Eventually we soaked our warm bodies in that water.

Eventually we lied down. Eventually she wrapped us in that big blanket. And eventually we had sex.

It was our first time. And thankfully, it certainly wasn't our last.

"So you getting ready?"

It takes me an eternity to peel my eyes away from the window. It takes me an eternity to see Spencer sitting beside me. I feel flustered and frustrated. This was a moment I didn't want to be taken from. I can always count on Spencer to help walk me out of the past. To hold my hand and carry me through the present.

But this was a time that I wished she'd let me drown in it. I wish she'd let me stay in it's safety.

"I guess so."

I look down at the flower in my hand. It's petals are all missing. It's petals are all scattered on the floor. I can feel her eyes looking at them. I can feel her eyes looking into my intimate past. I can feel her eyes looking in on places she's not allowed.

I hate her eyes looking.

She of course is asking if I'm ready to go home. Apparently this hospital thinks I am. They think I can breathe on my own. They think my heart can keep beating without that machine. They think I'm ok to live on my own again.

I'm not so sure they're right. I'm not so sure I'm ready. I'm not so sure I can live on my own. But I have no choice. Tomorrow I get to walk out of this hospital. I get to walk through those sliding glass doors. Carrying nothing but my crutches. Bringing nothing with me but my fear.

"You like lilies?" It seems like she knows she might have walked in on a moment. She looks like she knows she's intruded on something. She keeps her eyes on the flowers. I'm sure she finds safety there.

I wish I could.

"I used to."

So much said in that cryptic sentence. So much said that could make her curious. And she is curious. I see her eyebrows furrowed. I see her mouth forming the words. And then I see her closing her mouth. I see her thinking better of it.

"Lilies are my favorite flower. Hands down. Totally makes me think of home."

"Makes you think of Ohio?"

She laughs, and I feel stupid. She told me she lived in Ohio, that she grew up there. Why is she laughing.

"No Nantucket."

I'm flat out frustrated now. I don't like feeling dumb. Especially when I know I'm right.

"I thought you said you grew up in Ohio."

I think she notices my frustration cause her words come out really fast. Like she can't get them out there quick enough. Like she wants them to make me feel better. Like she needs them to.

"Oh no no, you're right, Ohio is my home."

She nods her head, looking back to the vase on the table between us. As much as I don't want to, I look there too. My eyes go to them like they'd go to a car accident.

"...but Nantucket is where my heart is. My family vacationed there every summer. Well, every summer till we moved out here." Something flushes over her eyes. Something so unreadable. Suddenly I feel like I'm the one intruding.

And then it's gone. Once again, she's Spencer. But I'm still feeling frustrated.

"Man, those summers were the most amazing times of my life. "

I've never been there. I've never cared to go there. I still don't. Suddenly I don't care so much about where anyone's heart is. I don't care where anyone's heart lives. But she doesn't seem to care. She keeps talking. She keeps talking about her heart.

"It's the most pure place. It's so untouched, they're like no chain stores. It's practically just you and the beach."

I hate the sound of this place. I don't think I want to have anything to do with her heart.

"I found myself out there, you know. That's where my heart is. I think it'll always remain there. Sitting happily on a tiny island on the east coast, twenty six miles out to sea"

And then I realize why I don't want to hear any more. I realize why my chest keeps growing tighter and tighter. I know why hearing Spencer talk about where her heart lives is killing me. I know why it's stabbing me where mine used to be.

Cause where her heart lives sounds so close to where mine lives. Her heart is practically mine. Except I'll never find mine again. Mine's so much farther away than twenty six miles.

Mine's six feet under.


	5. Homes

It's a Sunday. It's morning and it's sunny out. The air is warm. This is the day I go home. I'm already in a cab on my way there. I'm in a worn in cab by myself. There was no one around to come with me.

I wish Kyla were around. I wish she lived near by. I wish she were next to me for this drive. I wish it were Kyla bringing me home.

I wish too much.

I always wished for a home. I never had one growing up. I only had a house. I had a bedroom. A bedroom with four photo covered walls and a ceiling with a fan. But it wasn't what so many others had. I couldn't feel anything inside that house. I never felt a family there. I never felt a childhood. I never felt anything. I lost a home when my father walked out the front door. When I couldn't follow him.

When I couldn't follow him because I could barely walk myself.

It was only two years ago that I found what I'd been missing. When we bought our Malibu beach house together. That's when I found a family. That's when my house turned into a home.

Now here I stand on a sunny Sunday morning in front of our home. Now I stare at our front door. Suddenly it doesn't look right. Suddenly it looks like the door my dad walked through. Suddenly I'm a little kid. Suddenly I'm that kid without a home.

Once again I'm staring at a house.

But I know it's far more than that. I know what lies between those walls. I know what's below that ceiling. It's so much more than empty space. A war zone is brewing behind that front door. My former life is waiting inside. My former life with all it's bullet memories. Bullet memories waiting to shoot right through me. I know what rests inside is going to be worse than the quad. I know it's going to hit so much harder than the fresh air that swept around me.

This is going to hurt. This is going to be hell.

I crutch my way up the large stairs and push through the front door. I push through it and hold my breath knowing exactly what's to come.

I had no fucking clue what was to come. I had no clue this house was so much more than a war zone. This house already went through the battle. This house only holds what's left. It only holds the dead bodies. This house is a cemetery.

I come to a full stop in the doorway. My breathing stops. My breath disappears as I see the first ghost. As I see her checkered vans sitting happily beside the welcome matte. One is flopped over the other. They're teasing me. They're pointing their fingers and snickering. They're whispering to me that she's just inside.

And I'm still foolish enough to believe them.

I wobble through the living room. I hear my breath coming out faster and faster. I feel the tears falling harder and harder. I find her surfer magazines on top of the wooden coffee table. One of them is even open. One of them is still waiting for her. Waiting for her to come back and pick up where she left off.

Just like me, they're waiting for her to simply come back.

My lips are quivering as I limp away from this room. As I try with all my might to move faster. As I try to swing my body with those heavy crutches faster.

I don't even know what I'm running from. But I know I'm never going to escape it.

I pass through the kitchen. My eyes catch her Lucky Charms on the counter. The box is opened on top. I know the cereal is stale inside. I move faster. I try to move before anything else jumps out at me. But I'm not fast enough. I can see her scribbled grocery list on the fridge. I see it held there by a red plastic letter A. I almost trip over myself as I hobble down the hall. I almost fall over as I reach the bedroom. Our bedroom.

I hold my hands out to the panels of the door way. I hold on for support. My crutches are on the ground. They weren't strong enough. They weren't good for anything.

This is the last place I should be. This is where the hardest battle was fought. This room has the most dead bodies. They're scattered all over the floor. They're scattered like our clothes covering the wooden floor. Like our dirty laundry hanging on the corner chair.

Our lives are still inside this room. Her life is still living in this room.

I gasp as I see her favorite beater tank top. I see it hiding inside her favorite hoodie. I see it still molded to her form. I can still see the way she ripped both right from her body. The way she tossed them behind her to the chair. The way a playfully sexy grin graced her face. The way her hair came undone from her loose ponytail. The way she sauntered over to me.

I close my eyes. I can still smell the cigarette smoke wafting from our clothes. I can still smell her shampoo. I can still smell our last night.

I bite my bottom quavering lip. I can feel my nose scrunching painfully as my eyes shut tighter. They're so afraid to look anywhere. They don't want to see what they know they're going to find. What they've been finding. They don't want to see everything unchanged. They don't want to see everything cruelly as it was.

I take an eternity to open my eyes. And when I do I find what I've been fearing. I find her. I see her draped over the bed. I see her comfort food. I see her treasured photo album. I see her favorite song.

I heave myself over to it. I flop down on the bed and hold her to me. I'm breathless as I hold her beloved afghan to my chest. I smell her in the wool patches. I feel her in it's soft threads. I lose myself in it's meaning. I lose myself in everything she's lost. I cry because she needs it. I cry because she needs me.

I cry so hard. And I only cry harder when I feel something hop into my lap. I only weep as Hunter digs his black paws into my thighs. My soaked eyes stare at him. Stare at our perfectly black cat. The cat she never wanted. The cat she wished were a dog. The cat that would sleep on her stomach during lazy Sunday afternoons. The cat that one day became her dog. The cat that eventually became hers.

Through blurry eyes I see him looking at me. I see him clueless. He doesn't know what's been lost. He doesn't know she's not coming back. He doesn't know his napping partner is forever gone. I hug him to me. I try to comfort him. But he hops out of my arms. He hops out and lightly pads his way down the hall.

I'm all alone. I hear the waves crashing outside. I see the sun piercing through every window. I see our pictures on the walls. I see our smiling faces in the frames. I see my perfume on the dresser. I see her watch beside it. I see my wrecked reflection in the mirror hanging on the open closet door. I see my wet face. I see my broken knee in it's splint. I see my broken self.

I see myself alone.

I fall back to the bed. I roll to the side. I feel the pain in my leg. I don't even care. I roll over more. I feel the pain escalate. I still don't care. I bury my head into my hands. I bury into them and weep.

I'm weeping. I'm screaming. I'm yelling. Panting. Pleading. I'm lost. My eyes close. Everything becomes a blur. This room. This house. That cat. The time that is ticking by.

I open them and I don't know what time it is. I don't know where Hunter is. But I do know one thing. The vans are still in the hall. The magazines are still opened. The groceries are still waiting to be bought.

Everything is still the same. Everything is lost. She is still gone. I'm still alone. I am still lost.

I hiccup and stare at the wall before me. I stare at the tree tops I can barely see through the window. I reach behind me and pull something from my back jean pocket. I pull the rectangular card in front of my face. The top left corner is already bent. I hold it there before my eyes. Letting it block those tree tops. Letting it block the black and white pictures on the wall.

I stare at the blue numbers before me. Her handwriting isn't scribbled. Her handwriting is round and girly. Her handwriting is perfect. I'm not running from her handwriting. I'm not running from my last memory with her. Not at all. I'm running back to her. I'm running towards our last time together. I'm only running a few hours back.

"It'll be ok, Ashley."

Her eyes completely contradicted her words. Her eyes screamed that her words were a lie. She knew it. I knew it too. I knew it deep inside. I knew it all over. I knew it wasn't going to be ok. I knew it was going to be hard. I knew what awaited me on the other end of this cab ride was going to tear me apart.

That's why I didn't say anything. That's why I could barely nod. That's why my chin quivered.

We stood outside for a few moments. We stood there till the driver coughed. Till we both knew it was time. Till we both knew I had to leave.

She moved towards me to give me a hug. I awkwardly returned it. And it wasn't just because of my crutches.

She whispered "Bye Ashley."

I felt a little surprised when I whispered "Thank you Spencer". She looked just as surprised when I pulled away. She smiled half heartedly. Somehow she knew this was a time that she probably shouldn't give me a full one. She knew I was fragile. And she knew it wasn't long till I was going to fall to the ground. It wasn't long till I was going to break into a million little pieces.

I don't know how she knew. I don't even know if she did. Maybe I wanted her to know. Maybe I needed her to.

I tried to give her a smile. But it only made my chin shake more. It only made one tear fall off my cheek. And as I turned to get in the cab I think she saw the tear. I think she had one of her own.

"Wait."

I held open the door and saw her concerned face. For once she looked worried. For once she didn't look so composed.

"Here."

She held out a card. A card just like the kind you used as flash cards in grade school. The kind that helped you remember something important. Remember something you needed to know.

"I know we're going to see each other still when you come back for therapy. But if you ever need..."

She glimpsed down at her shoes. I looked there too.

"...if you ever wanna talk or anything, give me a call."

I looked back to her eyes and saw she meant it. I nodded and softly thanked her. I slammed the door shut and gripped her card tighter. I held it so tightly between my fingers.

I held it just as I'm holding it now. I stared at the numbers in the same way I'm staring at them now.

As I lie here on our bed my grip strengthens on them. I hold her card so close as I reach out for the phone. As my fingers shakily find the blue numbers before me.

I lay on the bed and cry harder as the dull ringing begins. As it reminds me of the hospital. As it reminds me of my lonely heart beating.

Her "hello" rattles me. My sobs shake me. Shake me as I hear them run over the photo covered walls. As they bounce off the ceiling with the fan. As they echo through this empty house. As they remind me of how alone I really am. How empty everything really is.

I hear her talking and wish she were here. I wish I could see her. I wish she could help me. I wish I weren't so alone.

I close my eyes and wish I were home.

I close my eyes and wish too much.


	6. Snow Days

For two weeks I slept in that hospital. And during those weeks I slept through it. I slept right through goodbye. When my mind wouldn't wake up, when my body wouldn't move. I missed it all. I missed the words spoken. I missed the tears shed. I missed the hugs. I missed the chance to grieve with everyone else. And I missed the chance to tell them what she really wanted. To make sure her final wishes were granted.

I couldn't tell them she never wanted to be buried.

But that's where she is. She's down deep in the earth's dirt. And it kills me. Even though Kyla and the Carharts told me what a beautiful service it was. Through choking tears and fumbling lips they said it was just what she would've wanted. But I know it wasn't. I know it was everything she never wanted.

They didn't know that though. How could they? Why would they? Why would a twenty five year old bright eyed goofy girl tell anyone where she wanted her ashes scattered?

She wouldn't, but she told me. She told me so many times, even when I told her not to. Even when I clasped my ears and shook my head. Even when I couldn't bare the thought. When I couldn't handle hearing the hypothetical-ness of it all. I still heard her. I knew she wanted her ashes scattered over the ocean, right outside of Hunting beach. She wanted them there for all the obvious reasons. For all the ones that hit me right where my heart still beats.

I couldn't bring myself to tell her parents it wasn't what she wanted. Their eyes were just so old. Their faces were just so tired. They looked like they had aged twenty years in those two weeks.

And I just couldn't make them age any more.

So I kept it to myself. I bit my lips. I bit them hard and held back those heavy tears. Once more burying the burden of all I couldn't do right. Once more I went along with what I knew was wrong.

Five weeks later and I'm still carrying it. Five weeks since she left me and I still haven't said goodbye.

Five weeks later and I'm sitting on her favorite chair on our deck. I have no clue how I got out here. I have no clue why I'm out here. But I'm here none the less. A living house sits behind me. I'm too scared to go back in there. I'm so scared because I realize what's in there now. It's what I've slept through. It's what I've been avoiding.

Goodbye's behind me. Goodbye's waiting for me.

I breathe in deeply. I don't know what time it is. I have no clue when I got off the phone with Spencer. But I can see how the sun's shifted. I see it sitting further in front of me. I know that sun well enough to know it's late afternoon. I know by the way it's brightness has turned orange. The way her rays are starting to wave goodbye to the beach goers.

I'm not sure what was said on that phone call with Spencer. I'm not sure I said anything at all. All I wanted was to hear her. All I needed was to hear her. I needed her to help me. But I don't think I could. I don't think I heard anything from her.

I think I only heard myself. I think I only heard my sobs.

I can't tell you what's happened since then. I can't tell you what's filled the hours between when I called Spencer and when I got out here. All I know is the time that's slipped through my fingers. How it's glided through them like sand. But just like those tiny grains, I have no clue where the minutes have gone.

I know Hunter visited me briefly. He stretched his back against my hand that was draped over the arm of this chair. It frightened me at first, but then it comforted me. It completely comforted me.

I wasn't alone.

I close my eyes and breathe in the air. It's so fresh. It's the freshest hit I've ever taken. I would start crying if I had any tears left inside. If I had anything at all inside, I'd weep. But I'm spent. I've wasted everything I've had.

"Ashley?"

I jump at the smooth voice. I sit up and glimpse behind me. I see a soft smile and light eyes looking at me. At first it frightened me.

"I'm sorry...the door was open, I hope you don't mind..."

Her voice trails off as she slowly walks over to the chair next to me. She sits down and I'm comforted.

"How you doin'?"

Because I'm not alone.

Turning back around, I softly say "I don't know" like I were merely talking to myself. I glance over to her. She's in normal clothes. She doesn't have that name tag on. She looks more real than she ever has.

"Well..." I catch her looking down at her hands, "...I'm glad you called me."

Her eyes come back to mine and she has this look in them. This cross between kindness, sympathy, happiness, and sadness all at once. I have no clue how she does it. How she manages to carry so many emotions. And how they all make me feel better.

"To be honest..." I glance down at my hands too, "...I didn't really know who else to call."

I can see her nodding slowly in the corner of my eye. It becomes so silent. I hear the waves tumbling. I hear a little girl laughing far away. I hear everything. Suddenly I'm so very aware. Aware of Spencer sitting beside me in my chair. Aware of me sitting in Shawn's. Aware of how wrong all of this is.

All at once I'm aware of my suffocating guilt.

"Do you ever wish it felt like February out here?"

And just like that she's trying to pull me out of it. She tries to pull me in another direction. I look towards her with eyes that still carry the weight form before though. With eyes that aren't so easily fooled. With eyes that will not be pulled from my guilt.

But I want to be taken. I want to be lifted from it. I want know where she's trying to take me.

"What do you mean?"

"Right, I forget everyone's not from Ohio like me."

She lets out the tiniest giggle, it looks like she's a little embarrassed. She turns away and squints out in front of her. She keeps her eyes there for a few moments before continuing.

"But there are some days where I miss winter. Some days where I remember it so well. I remember what it's like to wake up on a cold morning and just know that it's gonna snow. Just being able to smell it in the air, see it in the sky."

Her voice softly pauses as she nods her head absentmindedly and it only makes me more curious. There's something so personal about her voice. Something so private. I can vaguely see her eyes flickering back and forth. It's like she's testing herself. Testing this road she's about to walk on

"In Ohio we didn't have a lot of snow days, you know. Snow was pretty routine out there, we knew how to handle it. But then there was an occasional storm that no one was prepared for and school would be called off...And man, they were the best."

Her eyes are so far away now. She's looking way past the ocean before her. She's staring into the years behind us.

"My dad would always hang around with us. Either work was called off for him too or he'd take a sick day...mom worked at the hospital so she never really had one with us." There's a meaningful pause, one that includes more testing, one that makes me more curious.

"...Dad was the best though. He'd arrange these like snowman contests. I mean he even got my oldest brother Glenn involved. Glenn wasn't into that whole family thing then, you know how you are when you're barely a teenager."

Her eyes turn to me and it's so endearing. You can feel her memories with those eyes. I can feel everything she's describing. I feel everything I've never really known.

"Dad and I would always pair up. Glenn and Clay would always complain, shouting" she pauses, throwing on her best teenage boy voice 'That's not fair!'"

She starts chuckling and it surprises me when I am too. I find comfort in it. I think she does too

"Yeah..." And then her eyes are gone. Her eyes are right back in the past again.

"Then we'd all run inside with our slippery boots and red noses. We'd make hot chocolate and fight about who really won. It always ended up as a three way tie. And then we'd move on to a board game or a movie. Where more fights always ensued about what movie we'd watch or who won whichever board game we settled on."

She smiles and it's completely meant for herself. A smile she didn't even know was coming. Like an unexpected old friend popping in to say hello. It's a smile she hasn't felt in a long time.

And seeing her with that friend on her face, I realize I've never seen her more happy.

"Snow days were all about my dad...I'll never forget them."

I believe her. I believe they mean a lot to her. I can feel how much they mean. I think she just shared a huge part of herself with me. And I think I'm happy she did.

We both become quiet, the silence falling on us like rain. Everything becomes so peaceful. So calm. My heart's not beating outside of my chest anymore. My breathing is even and slow. My eyes are heavy. I'm so tired. And for a minute I almost forget where I am and what's around me.

"You know, it never goes away..." I turn to her and she's looking at my chair, again it's like she's talking to her self. I almost believe she is until she looks straight into my eyes, until she makes me swallow hard. "...but it gets easier."

She looks different. She's serious. She's looking through me. The only other time I've seen her like this were the times she told me about my physical health. When she'd tell me my how my heart was beating just fine. When she'd remind me I was still alive.

"All of this...what you're going through..." Her eyes still seem far away, they still seem like they're resting somewhere else. Like she's seeing something other than me. "...it never goes away completely, but every day it gets a little easier."

And I finally get it. I understand she's still doing it. She's still reminding me that I'm going to be fine. That everything will be ok. And I still don't believe her. I turn to the ocean that once offered comfort. I turn to the ocean and find what contradicts her words. I find everything that tells me it's not going to be fine.

"Yeah..." A sharp laugh cuts through my lips "...sure."

"I know it doesn't seem like it now, but believe me, you will get through it."

She's facing straight ahead. She's not looking at me, she's not asking for questions. She's not giving any answers. She's just leaving it at that.

I keep my eyes on her though. I keep looking at her, searching for everything I know she's not going to give me. Searching for anything. Searching for what's making her words ring inside me. Searching for why I suddenly feel a connection. Searching for why so much inside this unbelievable mess is starting to make sense.

"Spencer?"

She turns back to me, a calm smile on her face. Her eyes at ease. I begin treading carefully. I'm walking so very quietly now. I don't want to intrude. I don't want her to see my curiosity. I don't want her to see my need to look into places I'm not allowed.

"What's in Nantucket?"

The tone in my voice is sad. The tone in my voice knows the answer before she could ever give it to me. And the way her face looks. The way something flushes over it so quickly. Something she couldn't control or hold back. The sadness washing over her before she had time to realize she were wet. It gives me my answer.

"Snow days."

I feel the strong words hit me like a slap in the face. I feel every ounce of her vulnerability pierce through me. Suddenly I feel like I've seen all of her. Suddenly I feel like she let me intrude for the briefest second.

Her eyes are so steady and I know the words she's about to say are smothered in truth.

"Snow days are in Nantucket."

And then the second is over. One simple nod and she faces away from me. Like that, she's shut me out. I'm not looking in on private places anymore. They're all locked up and hidden away.

But I'm still looking at her. I'm still trying to search through the darkness. I want more. I need to know what she means. I need to know. But I know I'm not going to find out today. Her eyes have already left me. They're facing the ocean.

After a few moments, I let myself do the same. Finally I face forward and look into my snow days. We both sit there, looking forward. We both sit there, looking back.

And then all that's behind me catches up with me. Everything I've been avoiding. Everything I'm afraid of.. I hear all those ghosts whispering behind me. I remember everything I still have to face. As if she heard them too, Spencer look back behind us. I see her eyes searching through the sliding glass door before they turn to me. Before they search through me.

"So...how do you feel about some dinner?"

I look over to her, staring straight into safe blue. I still can't look there though. I don't' think I'm ready.. I think she knows it too. I think she sees my fear. I think she understands what's inside. I think she understands more than she should. More than she deserves to understand.

She stands and offers her hand to me. She holds it out there like it were a life preserver. As if it were the ladder that's gonna pull me out of everything I'm drowning in.

"Come on."

I just stare at it for a few more moments before I slide my hand into hers. Before I let her pull me up. I let her pull me out of everything. I let her be that ladder. I hold my crutches in my other hand and finally I face forward. Finally I look up and there it is. Everything from behind me. All my snow days staring me right in the face.

I don't know if I'm ready for this. I'm scared. I'm so scared. But I feel her hand in mine still. I feel her lightly squeezing me.

"I'm right with ya."

Her voice holds me up. Her voice is stronger than my crutches. And I believe her. I hold on to her hand so tightly. I thank her with my hand. I give her every ounce of gratefulness I have left.

Then I let go. I let go and start hobbling. I start hobbling my way inside.

I start hobbling towards goodbye.


	7. Twirling Forks

The coffee here is lukewarm. Stale and grainy. It always is. And I drink it. Every last drop. I always do.

I need it. It keeps my hands busy, it keeps my fingers working. It keeps my mind away from this plastic hard chair. Just one out of a bunch in this small circle. This circle that grows smaller with each session. I swear they can all see through me. We're so close now, they can all see right through my dark eyes.

My physical therapy ended just a few weeks ago. I don't need those crutches. I'm strong enough on my own. I can walk all by myself now. It only took me two months. Which, while that's faster than it takes most babies, I still feel so pathetic. I still feel so lost.

I am still so broken.

Maybe that's why Spencer suggested this. These stupid group therapy sessions. I still have no clue why I listened to her. I still don't know why I'm here. Sure I know the technical reasons. I know I'm full of issues. I'm full of depression. I'm here because I lost something huge. I lost myself. And maybe that's why Spencer convinced me to come here. Maybe she's afraid I'll never find her again. Maybe Spencer's afraid I'll never be that girl she never even knew again.

I don't know why Spencer cares. But she does. And I let her. Someone should.

Stacy, the group leader, seems to care as well. This is my third session and I still haven't said anything other than my name. Somehow that was enough. They all nodded their heads, whispered pleasant hellos and then were off on their own again. They all cry. They all speak so privately. They all lay themselves on the floor, and let us all watch them undress themselves.

No one seems uncomfortable with it. No one but me.

Jack, the father without his quarterback son, is on that floor right now. He's curled in complete fetus position, blubbering like a two year old. And here I am, just watching him. His words are sliding across his slippery lips like a car skidding on a icy and snowy road. And like me, we all just watch it. But unlike me, everyone is there to protect him. To stop him from running into that guard rail. To stop him in the way I still wish someone would have stopped us. In the way someone would have stopped her.

In the way I should have stopped her.

I wince as Stacy coos some form of comfort. I can't hear her words. I need to get out of here. My mind is desperately running from this place. From all these blatant emotions. All these brutally honest words. I shouldn't hear them. I can't even voice my own.

I twirl my cool paper cup between my hands. I can hear Jack's manly sobs subside as I take one final sip of my watery coffee. I take the last of what keeps me grounded in this place. The only thing that connects me to this room, these people. It's the only thing I share with them.

One black coffee with two sugars.

I hold onto the empty cup. I'm not letting it go till I toss it in the bin on my way out. I look inside it and see those warm Budweisers from so long ago. The ones Shawn would grab for me before every one of my shows. The ones that made me believe all of her encouraging words.

The ones that made my fingers find each string perfectly. Steadily.

I needed those beers. I needed them just in the way I need this coffee now. In a way they taste the same. Lukewarm, stale, and grainy. And I love every last drop.

I never knew why I got into performing. I've never known what inspired me to pick up a guitar one day. I sometimes wonder if it was because of my father. If it was the way he looked when he held a guitar. The way he cradled it so carefully. The way he paid such close attention to it. The way it sat in his lap. The way it looked so right there. How it looked more right than I ever did.

Maybe I wanted my father to see me. Maybe I wanted him to know me. Maybe I wanted him to love me.

But one day it didn't matter. One day I didn't need anything from him because I gained so much more for myself. I actually genuinely loved playing. I found myself in that guitar. I found myself in my music. I found myself in what I thought was my biggest enemy. What I envied for so long became my closest friend. Six simple strings inside a wooden frame and it never let me down. I could always count on it.

It was a long time before I played for anyone. Before I let Shawn into my world. I'll never forget the look on her face, the awe in her eyes. I can still hear her every word. The way she would tell me how good I was. How "fucking unbelievably good I was". And I still remember when I actually started believing her. When I actually knew I was good.

But It took years before I finally listened to her. Before I took her advice and got out there. Before I set myself out to perform. It was only five years ago that I actually got myself on stage for the first time. Five years of discovering my life passion. Five years of actually acting on it.

All because of those Budweiser drafts. All because of Shawn.

"Anything you wanna add Ashley?"

I glance up from my past and stare at my future. There's Stacy looking at me just the way Spencer used to. Like she's holding her breath on me. Like she's not gonna let it go till I answer. But her eyes show it's only a matter of seconds before she exhales. Before she exhales into silence. And unlike Spencer, I think it might be silent forever. I don't' think I'll ever give any of myself to this group. To this decreasing circle.

My cold eyes stare into her warm ones.

She exhales.

"Well that's it for tonight. Great session guys," She folds her hands in her lap, finally looking away from me "...I'll see you all next week."

I'm the first one up. I always am. I slide my bag over my arm, tossing my empty friend into the garbage bin. I hear the door close heavily behind me. Shutting me out from all the others. Shutting me out of my third week of therapy. Three weeks of worried eyes on my cheeks and comforting hands on my heavy shoulders.

All because of those dark coffees. All because of Spencer.

I get into my new car. I can still smell the leather. I used to love that smell. Now it just reminds me. It just reminds me of how much can change. Of how much can be lost. Of everything that will never be found again. No matter how many new cars you buy. No matter how new the leather smells.

I drive silently through the buzzing streets of LA. I don't listen to music that much these days. I don't need anything else to distract me. To remind me. It's been a long while since I've lived here in LA. A long while.

I pull into my apartment complex and spot Spencer's car.

I exhale.

She's on time. She offered to cook dinner. She offered to help paint the walls. In other words, she offered to keep me alive.

I climb each step slowly, my hand glides along the railing, feeling every drop of condensation. I'm still getting used to these stairs. I'm still working on the timing and rhythm of them. I'm still a long way from jumping the steps blindly, just knowing where each edge is. And as I get to the top of the platform, I need to remember my apartment number.

I still need to remember so much. I still have so much to learn.

But as always Spencer's here. She's here and she helps me remember. She's standing outside my forty two. She's leaning against the door with a nice smile on her face. As every other human being, she's enjoying her Friday night.

I walk slowly to her. As if it were the first time. As if I didn't expect her to be here. And in some way, I didn't. I never expect her to follow through. I mean why would she? What fun could be held on this Friday night if it's shared with me.

"Hey there."

"Hey" My eyes flick from her to the door, too scared to look anywhere else. I don't know why I'm still scared. I can see her tilting her head as she brings a plastic bag in front of her.

"I thought Chinese was in order."

She's still smiling. She's always smiling. And as always, I cough out a laugh, whispering "sure" as I push open the door.

I lead us into the silent front hall. We walk further into the bare rooms of this empty apartment. Every wall looks the same as the next. Big, bare, and white. Blaring white. Everything looks so clean. So perfect. So shallow.

This is nothing like the home I left. There's nothing here to remind me. But in some way, it all still does. It still feels like the house I've always known. And still shows I'll never have that home again. Shows I'll never be able to forget it. No matter how hard I try to hide it. No matter how hard I try to mask it with perfectly white walls, and pretty wood floors.

Spencer rounds me to the kitchen, already getting to work with laying out food. She knows where every dish, every fork resides. She's the one that put them there in the first place. She's the one that did everything I could hardly do.

Kyla was here for that particular fun day. She brought along her boyfriend. Some Aiden character. I couldn't bother remembering his name; there's always a new one. Whoever he was he helped them put together my new apartment. They laid out every couch. They set every table. They turned on ever lamp.

Once again I merely watched. Once again I held my crutches in my hands. I held them so tight. I let them take me away from this place. I let them hide me from all that I couldn't do.

They stayed for dinner. I think we even had Chinese again. Well they had it, I merely twirled my food around a fork. I found comfort that I didn't have to talk. I could just sit there with wide eyes and watch them all. Watch how they tried to find safe ground. Watched them try to find something, anything to talk about. Whatever was appropriate.

Somehow Spencer guided them through it. As always she talked about everything possible, and never once did anyone lose their way. Everyone stuck right beside her on the safe path she provided.

Even me.

"You want some wanton soup?"

I glance up from the mail I was apparently shuffling through. I see her holding the plastic bin my way, as if further inviting me into it. As if it would make it more tempting somehow.

"No..." I keep my eyes right on her hands "...I'm good, thanks."

"Your loss."

It's so simply said. Said with such cheeriness that's so outside of this situation. She doesn't even wait for my response before spinning around. I just watch her. I watch her baffled. As always. She catches me watching her but it doesn't deter her. It doesn't make her uncomfortable. She finishes her bite from a large soup bowl.

"How was therapy?" I can tell she's still chewing her food.

I shrug my shoulders. "Same as the other times."

She's looking at me strangely, I can't read it. She's not disappointed. She's not upset. It's more like she understands. It's more like she's been there. Like she's been the girl sitting on the same stool I'm sitting on now. It becomes silent for a while. I can smell the food. It smells good. I'm almost tempted to have some.

I pick up the fork Spencer laid out for me and dig into one of the few containers.

I swear I see Spencer smile. Like really smile.

"So you ready to get this place in shape?"

I chew my food, another excuse not to talk, and give my shoulders another shrug. I think I see her smile fall somewhat. I think it's because of me. And I think I don't like it.

"Yeah..." The word leave my lips before I even realize my eyes are on her again. "...I am."

She looks down on me. She's happy again. I like it.

"Good." The word is happy. The word is relieved.

I like making her happy. It's been a slow realization, but one that means a lot. There's something I can still do. I still have someone who cares. I still have someone I care about. But once again I'm clueless as to why. I'm still baffled as to how we became these people for each other. The thought is getting to me more and more. The thought won't go away now.

It's Friday night. We're young. She's young. She has a life. Why is Spencer here?

"I mean..." I just can't help myself, "...as along as there's nothing else you'd rather do."

My eyes are trained down, they're carving zig zag patterns into the dark green counter top. But just cause I can't see her, doesn't mean I can't feel her. I know where her eyes are. I know they're not drawing any patterns. Nope. I feel them drawing one single line. A thick line from her to me.

"Of course I wanna be here Ashley." Her hand comes across mine, forcing my eyes to look into hers. But I flinch. I blink and pull away.

I catch her nodding. I feel the air surround us. I feel it so heavy. I just created this moment. I'm the reason for the sudden tension. I've never felt it before with her. But somehow, in the last few seconds, I planted something inside this room. I don't know what it is. It's not something I can see. But it's something I feel. It's something we both feel. And I don't know when it'll go away. I don't know how to make it go away.

We continue eating. We continue to eat around the issue. We clench our forks and spin our food. We do anything to keep from looking. It's the first time she's ever kept from doing anything with me.

Time crawls by. It ticks across the floor. I watch her place her dishes in the sink. "So..." her voice sounds familiar, sounds friendly. Sounds like Spencer. And when she faces me again I find her smile. I find the comfort again. I feel whatever was inside here before dissipate.

"...my friend Anthony is having this like dinner party thing next weekend and I thought maybe you'd wanna go?"

Her fingers are crisscrossed before her. It reminds me of the church and steeple game my father would play with me as a kid. The one that never got old. The one I loved for so long. The one I still love today.

"Oh..." The word trickles from my lips. The word is bouncing on the ground, waiting for someone to pick it up, waiting for more.

A party. The last time I went to one of those I never needed to remember. I never needed to forget. I didn't need anything cause I had everything. I had her. I had her right by my side.

"Come on, It'll be fun, I promise you'll have a good time. And..." she stops, smiling wider, "...I'll be there."

I don't know how she does this. How she gets inside my head every time. How she reminds me I'm not alone. How she knows exactly when I need to remember.

"Ehh...I don't..."

"If it sucks we can leave. Promise."

I look up to her. Fork sitting tightly between my rolling fingers. I exhale.

"Ok."

Her hands clasp below her chin, the smile spreads across her face like wild fire. I can feel it's heat radiating right off her body. I feel it so warmly. I feel it spreading to my own body. My own face.

"Excellent." She looks down to the floor for a second, before she whirls past me. "Onto the nights duties then."

I start picking up the left over containers, putting them in the fridge. I can hear her down the hall. I hear her ruffling through the closet. Doing God knows what. I don't even care. She's running this show. She's guiding this ship. I'm merely a clueless passenger. I'm merely putting the leftovers away.

"You play?"

I don't need to see her to know I'm no longer that passenger. To know I'm far from it. The pilot just thrust his gear into my amateur hands. Right into my shaking, unsteady hands.

I slowly turn around and find just what I expected. I see her holding my sticker covered guitar case. I see her holding the one thing I carried into this apartment. The one thing I had to hide before anyone saw. The one thing that's mine.

She has a bright smile on her face. A smile that just asked something far too powerful. Meaning more than it could ever realize. I'm completely frozen. I try to form some words. I try to get anything out.

"I...um..."

But I can't. My lips fumble. My words skid just like Jack's. My hands need that coffee cup. My hands need those Budweisers. They need my crutches. They need Chinese food and forks.

I can't see that guitar case. I can't see my childhood and my life passion. I can't see my best friend. I can't see what i've always counted on. Because it's not there any more. What I see before me will never be what it was. Those stickers. Those six strings. That wooden frame. They're all strangers.

My hands are bunching together now. They need so much. They're drowning in their emptiness.

And then I feel it. I feel two hands unclasp the tight fists inside my own. I feel them hold onto my empty hands so tightly.

"It's ok."

And for once, I almost believe her. I almost believe Spencer. Because I feel her filling my emptiness. I feel her giving me what I need so much. I feel her reminding me of everything I almost forgot.

I grip her hands tightly between my own. I feel my coffee cups. I feel my Budweisers. I feel my crutches and forks.

I remember I'm not alone.

I exhale.


	8. Meeting Anthony

I haven't seen my friends since the hospital. Since the days of making sure I was still alive. And now that I'm alive. Now that they're sure of it, we don't talk so much. We don't talk at all. I guess that's kind of my fault. I haven't picked up the phone. I haven't knocked on their doors. And I haven't let them knock on mine. I haven't even let them find mine. I haven't given them a new number. I haven't sent out new directions.

Spencer and Kyla are the only ones with those numbers. With those directions. They're the only ones who know the details. The details of my new life. My private world.

I thought someone might try. I thought someone might care. I thought someone might want to find me. And I thought I might care when no one tried. When no one cared. When no one found me. But I don't. I don't mind being hidden. I don't mind my new isolated world. I'm safe in here. I'm so safe in these dark private white rooms.

Tonight I'm leaving these rooms though. Tonight I'm taking a risk. I'm making a first step into a new life. I'm letting people into this new world. I'm letting strangers inside here. Surprisingly, I'm not nervous. Surprisingly I'm not anything at all.

Or maybe that's not so surprising.

I'm sitting in Spencers car, relaxed in my tight jeans, tank top, and easy heels. I didn't know what to wear, and frankly, I wasn't going to change even if it didn't fit the bill. That's just who I am. It's who I've always been. Some how it comforts and unnerves me. The way some things never change.

Spencers in a short jean skirt with some vintage T-shirt. The necks been cut to give it that 80's feel. It's cute. It's not what I expected.

Of course a person will never find what they expect when they have no expectations to begin with. And I don't have those. If there's anything I've learned it's that expectations only lead to disappointment. Hope only leads to loss. And I'm not setting myself up for either of those any more.

I watch the cars that pass us. I've never been a passenger person. I've always been the driver. I've always been the one in control. I've always held everything between my strong hands. But those days of controlling are in the past. Those days ended when she took the wheel. When she was in control.

When she held everything between her strong hands. When everything fell straight through them.

I flick my eyes over to Spencers hand on the stick shift. She drives an old Jetta. The kind that are more boxy than round. It's black. It's the opposite of everything I expected her car to be. You know, if I had given it any thought in the first place. I figured her car would match her eyes. Would match her handwriting. I thought it'd be bubbly. Peppy. Pastel and pretty.

But it's not. It's not and I like it.

These seats are worn in. I'm sure this car got her through college. Probably high school too. I wonder if her parents bought it for her. I wonder if it was a graduation gift. Nothing too extravagant, but nothing too shabby for their daughter.

Maybe she worked for it on her own. Maybe she spent two summers in some ice cream parlor earning money. Saving for it. Little by little. Paycheck to paycheck. Making her parents so proud the day she pulled into the drive way, honking it's beaten down horn.

I find myself smiling when I hear her voice.

"You excited? Maybe just a little bit?"

She has both hands on the wheel. Both eyes on the road. Easy smile on her lips.

"Sure."

I lie. She laughs. She knows.

"Well I promise it won't be anything too big. Just a few of us."

"Whatever."

I'm honest. She laughs. I let my eyes creep to the side, watching her so casual. So relaxed. So natural. She's almost always in her element. Almost.

She's only broken once. Only once did she crack just the tiniest bit. For the briefest moment her inner private light shone through. Snow days let their secret fingers pull open a locked door. Pulled it open for a second. A short moment in time. And then they closed that door. I haven't seen them since. They're long gone now, just like the winter that's completely passed us.

"We're here."

I feel the car park and have to look around to make sure we've really arrived. I didn't expect to arrive so soon. I look up to the small house on a nice residential road. I keep my eyes on it as I leave the car and shut the door. Spencer smiles back at me as she leads us up the three small steps to the front door.

I take a deep breath as she opens the door. I take a deep breath thinking of what might be inside. Thinking of what would be worse to find. A large group of unfamiliar faces or a small circle of curious eyes. I don't know which I'd rather.

I exhale when I remember not to care. When I remember not to expect.

The door opens to a warmly lit living room. Music plays softly in the background. A handful of people are sprinkled about. Some are in the kitchen connected to this room. Some are on couches. Some are out on the deck I can see through the kitchen door.

Offhand I'd say there are about fifteen people here. A number that was never enough for me. I've always needed a large crowd. Needed noise. Needed chaos. I needed to feel alive.

Fifteen is middle ground. Fifteen is friendly. Fifteen allows a person to step into the background. Fifteen allows me to fit in.

Suddenly fifteen's enough for me. Suddenly it's never felt better.

A tall and lean guy walks up to us. His hair is a perfect mess. Each wayward strand comes together to form an organized whole. He's wearing deep blue fitted jeans and a dark gray t-shirt. As he gets closer to us, I notice a yacht club emblem sitting on his heart. Sitting there like an absolute oxymoron. Sitting there telling me this shirt was bought at a thrift shop. I just know this guy is not the sailing type.

"Spence!" His voice is smooth. He winds his arms around her and gives her the hug of his life.

"Hey you" Spencer equally coos. He gently places her down, hands remaining on her hips. I begin to wonder if these two have some sort of past. How long they dated. They must have with the easiness between them.

"Oh hey Ant..." she keeps an arm around his tiny torso as she turns, extending her other arm towards me "...this is my friend Ashley."

He shakes my litte hand between both of his, "Hey Ashley, I'm Anthony..." looking straight into my eyes he sincerely continues, "...it's an absolute pleasure meeting you."

I understand their easiness now. I understand it all too well. I understand as Anthony's homosexuality comes into focus. I've always had good gaydar and some things never change.

I feel his hands still safely sitting around mine. He smiles and it makes me smile.

"You too."

"Well what can I get you hot ladies to drink? Wine, beer..." he throws Spencer a crooked look, eyebrows raised "...martini?"

It's in this moment that I realize these two are more than best friends. They share a connection deeper than that. A connection where there's an inside joke for every moment. Where they find each other in a simple drink.

Where secret worlds rest inside martini glasses.

"A beer's fine, asshole."

She playfully punches his shoulder. He grabs his arm in mock pain. They both laugh. I don't join in. I stand there. I'm awkward. I'm uncomfortable.

"And what can I get you Ash?"

He uses my nickname. I feel more uncomfortable. Suddenly everyone's eyes are on me. I can feel them whispering. I can see them cupping hands to ears. I can hear dead girlfriend every where.

I need out of here. I need it now.

"Uh...I'm fine thanks."

I try to hide the flares going off in my eyes. I try to keep my insecurity a secret. I don't want to concern anyone. I don't want to upset Spencer. I don't want to ruin her time. Her party. I don't want to take away another Friday night.

With a tight smile, I quietly, quickly say, "I'm just gonna grab some fresh air."

I don't leave anytime for protesting. I try to leave before there can be concerned looks and questions. I'm fast but not fast enough. I don't miss the fact that Spencer has both. I don't miss her feet ready to follow mine. However I hear Anthony pull her into some conversation. I hear Anthony making her laugh.

I hear Anthony becoming my best friend.

I push myself through a door onto an empty deck. I stand in the middle of it. Hugging my body with my bare arms. I close my eyes and breathe in deep. The breeze blows across my face. Across my slightly exposed stomach.

Reminds me I'm alive. I'm here. I'll be ok.

I am ok.

I shuffle over to the side where a chair sits. My body easily falls down, languidly resting inside it. I'm out of breath. This all feels strangely familiar. I can hear my heart pumping in my throat. I can hear the music's muted thumping inside. I hear murmuring. I hear it overlapping with the past. I feel so many layers falling on me. I feel my body shifting once more.

I close my eyes and see three months, two weeks, and four days ago.

I see her. My eyes close so tightly. I see her for the last time.

We were at our favorite bar. A dive off of Sunset. McGee's. However we always called it Tits McGee. For many obvious reasons, and ones that only meant something to us. Reasons that will forever remain there. Silent and forever inside me.

I had just finished a show. I had just finished my last show. Of course I didn't know that then. I knew so very little then.

The usual group poured through the doors as the hours rolled by. The pitchers were overflowing. The laughter roared. The pool tables cracked and snapped. Tequila shot after tequila shot slid down the bar. Sid right towards us. Shawn tipped back every last one. She always did. Tequila was never my friend. She made sure I had plenty red headed sluts. Those I loved and she knew it.

I enrolled myself in an endless game of quarters with Chester behind the bar. He was my favorite. He always had an old t-shirt on. His gray chest hair always peeked through his gold cross.

His quarters always went in.

I remember how many times she left me that night. I remember how many bathroom trips were made. The ones that always included a partner crime. The ones that were becoming too regular. Too routine.

I remember pretending not too notice. I remember pretending not to care. I slammed my quarters. I drank my red headed sluts. I sang drunkenly to my jukebox selections.

I pretended too much. I sang too loud. My quarter missed too many times. I made too many mistakes. I made the biggest mistake of my life. Over. Over. And over again.

The screen door closes like a clap of thunder.

"Hey there..."

I jump at the voice. I find that crazy beautiful face joining me on my deck. A cigarette already fitted between his lips.

"...I thought you might want a beer to go with your fresh air."

He hands me a dark bottle to match his eyes. One of them is winking at me. I gladly accept it. I finally get a chance to get a good look at him. A chance to see that Anthony is one of the best looking guys I've ever seen. Spencer mentioned he was a model slash actor out here. I rolled my eyes at the cliché. They're not rolling now though. He is not that cliche. He could actually make it out here. He has something about him. Something under his perfectly tanned skin and sandy hair. Something behind his smiling eyes and friendly lips.

I take a long sip, hearing a soft pop when the bottle leaves my lips as I hiccup a "Thanks."

He holds his cigarette near his face and leans on the deck railing. He smiles and blows out a very Italian "Fuhgeta bout it."

I find myself chuckling lightly. However it's not enough to pull me from where I just was. It's not enough to loosen my grip on this bottle. I go right for that bottle again. Swallowing gulp after gulp. My shaky hands hold it to my lips. The hands that still live inside a scary dream. The hands that are right inside my own memory.

"So you from this crazy town?"

I nod. I drink. "You're from Ohio right?"

He deeply laughs, "Hell no. Jersey born and raised. Can't you tell?"

I don't know what he's asking. What he means. Must be another inside thing. Must be another olive inside a martini glass. I choose to ignore it.

"So you met Spencer out here then?"

"Oh no, Spencer and I go way back. Our families both summer vacationed in the same place."

A light bulb full of sarcasm and disbelief goes off, "Let me guess..." an exasperated sigh "...Nantucket?"

"All in one, babe." He smiles widely.

"Ok, what is the deal with this place?" My eyes open wider, "Seriously." I look down to my crossed legs. My words were rude. My words were soaked in exclusion. I'm tired of secret worlds. I'm tired of being left out of them.

His arms cross, he looks at me for a moment. He suddenly looks different. He's not the same charming and charismatic person. He seems confused. He almost seems hurt. He's not looking at me like before. He's looking at me like long division.

He's carrying twos and fours, trying to figure me out.

"What do you mean?"

I drink. He carries more numbers. I finish half my beer.

"Well..." my fingers fidget, my hands slide on my wet bottle "...Spencer just talks about it a lot."

I hold my cards. I hold them close to my chest. But he's holding his closer. I don't know if they're even his cards anymore. Suddenly they look a lot like Spencers.

"Well..." He's still smiling. He's still bluffing. "...it means a lot her."

"Yeah." I'm beyond uncomfortable. And so is he. I've made him uncomfortable. I've made him protect something. Finally it hits me. Finally I realize I've made him protect Spencer.

And I have no clue what he's protecting her from.

I don't know anything right now. All I know is I need to finish my beer. I need to get out of here. I feel those eyes from the living room. I see those cupped hands. I hear those dead girlfriend whispers. But it's different this time. I see my own hands. I hear my own voice whispering.

The air is choking me. It's suffocating. It's closed off like the tired air inside the empty bottle now gripped between my slippery fingers.

"She hasn't told you has she."

His tone has softened, he's folded somewhat. He's not asking. And neither am I. I'm running away from this as fast as I can.

"Um." I stand feeling a slight heaviness in my bones "...I'm just gonna grab another beer. You want?"

A long pause. An eternity. He finally lets it go.

"Nah, I'm good..." His eyes are kind again. "Thanks Ash."

I meekly smile, gripping my bottle, and open the door. It claps behind me as I step over to the fridge. I go straight for another beer. I pop off the top and drink. I drink and pretend that deck conversation didn't just happen. I pretend there was no discomfort. There was no need to protect.

I pretend to not care. I look beyond the bottom of my bottle to the warm room. To all the people living a cozy life. I pretend I can't see them. I pretend there's no one inside this room.

My bottle falls to my side and I almost believe it. I'm so close. I'm almost there when it all stops. When her face stares right back into mine. When I see her fading into a corner between two people.

When I see Spencer. When I see her just like me. When I see her pretending.

And almost believing.


	9. The Shift

Something has happened. Something has occurred. It's been so long since I've felt this. Since I found this reason. A reason to ask, to look, to search. A reason to keep going. To keep living. A reason to want to.

I'm alive. And for just a moment, just one moment, I was happy to still be it.

I connected tonight. I found three dots and drew three lines. It started with me and ended with me. It ended with me and Spencer. It ended with the biggest dots and the thickest line. But I know that's not where it truly ends. I know there are more dots. There are more things to connect. I have to find them. I have to draw more lines. I need to know what's connecting it all. I need to know why I'm one of the dots.

I need to know why I care. Why I'm drawn. Why I'm alive.

So I've kept my eyes on hers. I haven't let them leave hers. Even when I've tried, and believe me I've tried. We both have. But it's useless. We keep coming back to each other. Our eyes are playing that weird walking dance thing. Where we both walk in the opposite direction only to bump right into each other instead. We awkwardly step back, eyes ready to leave each other as we try to move away. Only to fail once more. Only to face one other. Only to collide and stumble back. Our mouths remain closed. Silent without apologies. There are no apologies for this. Whatever this is. It's bigger than both of us and we can't stop it.

The party plowed on anyway. Vegetable platters and pasta salad sat on tables. Conversations heightened and voices slurred. Beer filled coolers and wine filled bottomless glasses.

We were there for all of it. But we weren't really there. We held our plates. We drank our drinks. I swallowed mine. I held on to mine for dear life. We watched the air change. We felt the floor shift. All around us. Right below us. Threatening to wipe us out completely. I don't know how or why this has happened. I don't know if it was out there on the deck with Anthony. I don't know if it was when her hands held that guitar case. When her hands held onto mine. Maybe it was the day she wheeled me into the quad. Maybe it was the day I first spoke to her.

Maybe it was back in the beginning. Back when I first saw her. When I finally opened my eyes. When they looked right into hers.

I'm starting to wonder if they ever stopped looking.

Anthony's noticed. Anthony is the middle dot. He's middle ground. He's the one holding us together. And he sees it all. He watches our clumsy tango. He watches the words go unspoken. I've watched him too. I've watched the way he's gone to her. They way they've talked. They way it surprised me. The way it looked normal. There were no secret whispers. There were no wide eyes. It was just them. Spencer and Anthony.

So why do I feel Spencer everywhere? If she doesn't know about the deck conversation, about protecting and card holding, why can't she let me go? Why can I feel her when I can't see her?.

Why have I always felt her?

"You ready?"

I freeze. Both her voice and my own inner voice have left me frozen. Paralyzed. Both took me by surprise. Both knocked me right out. I timidly glance up from the couch I've been sitting on. I find her all smiles and bright eyes. I find her normal.

"To go home?"

Both her eyes and mouth are giggling slightly. Mine do not mirror them. I awkwardly stand, making sure we don't touch. That's too dangerous. I'm not ready for that quite yet.

"Uh sure"

The laughter and smiles die down as she notices.

"You good?"

I see her hospital eyes. I see that name tag. I don't like it.

"Oh yeah...just tired." I mask the truth with drunkenness. "...let's go."

I walk for the door. She follows. We stop to say goodbye to Anthony. I feel our connect-the-dots world come together. I feel the lines stronger. I feel the image coming more into focus. It's still blurry. It's blurry but I can see the outline of this new world.

I don't know if I want to stay inside it. I don't know if I want to see it in focus. I don't know if I have a choice.

"Call me tomorrow, ok?" He hugs her close. He holds her so tightly, so warmly. He's protecting her. I think he does that a lot.

"I will."

She pulls away and he looks at me. He smiles kindly. He's not hiding anything. He's not holding cards. He moves towards me and wraps his arms under mine. "You too, Ash" I feel his voice vibrate through his chest against mine. "Let's get together soon, yeah?" Somehow I'm not awkward. Somehow it feels right. It feels safe.

It feels like he's protecting me.

"Yeah, ok." My voice is soft and innocent. My voice is ten years old. My voice is that day on the beach. The day of water drop gifts. This is a new day. These are new drops. These are Anthonys. These are new gifts inside a new life.

We turn to go and I smile. I smile all the way to the car. And it all flies away when the doors shut. When the air swells around us. When the silence seeps into our skin. When our eyes catch fire.

This time I know Spencer feels it. I know I haven't made up everything that's happened tonight. I know I'm not the only one. She knows things have changed. She knows, she feels it, and she's just as lost as me. We drive silently down nameless streets. I watch cars pass. I watch Spencer sit straight in her seat. Hands clenched at ten and two. Eyes fixed on double lines and brake lights.

She pulls into her spot in my parking lot. We sit there, the low hum of the engine filling the thick space between us. I'm looking at my hands. I think she's looking at them too. The humming stops. I hear her pull the keys into her lap.

"Wanna come up?"

I feel the words leave my lips, and I wish the engine were still running. I wish the engine's hum could have drummed over my naked words. But it wasn't running. Nothing took away my vulnerable invitation.

"Yeah…" she's looking at me from the corner of her eyes, too afraid to fully face me "…sure."

Her voice is so soft. My heart is so loud. My feet are so heavy. My feet leading hers up the stairs are so scared. I hold onto the railing with a clenched fist. I hold on so tightly. I can hear cars passing. I hear them cutting through her shallow breathing.

I remember my forty two door. I walk us right inside it. The apartment's silence is unnerving now. The white walls are too bright. The emptiness is too much. Too dark. Too vast.

She doesn't round me this time. She follows me to the kitchen counter. She sits on one of the stools. I go right for the fridge and cabinet at the same time. Grabbing glasses and clawing whiskey.

"Drink?"

My back's facing her, I'm already pouring. I'm not waiting for her to answer. She never gives me one. I can't hear her. It's questionable if she's even still here. I grip our drinks. The ice lightly clatters against clear edges. The ice gives away my shaking hands. I take a deep breath and turn around.

She's there. She's smiling. I exhale. I smile.

"Here" I gently slide over her cocktail.

"Thanks" Her hand goes for it. Her hand lightly covers mine. Her hand blankets my tremors. I don't pull away this time. I don't flinch. But she flinches. She pulls away. She looks anywhere I'm not. She's dropping something inside here. She's adding another layer to our already overflowing awkward pile.

She fidgets in her seat. I drink. She crosses and uncrosses her hands. I drink. She glimpses at me and back down. I drink.

"So did you have fun tonight?"

Her eyes are unsteady. They check in on me for mere seconds. Her question is a diversion. A test. She's feeling us out. Feeling me out. But I don't want to test anymore. I don't want to play games. I'm putting my marker away. She's gonna have to connect these dots now.

I take a long sip. It sates me. She's ready to ask the obvious question. She's sitting in her hospital chair. She's reading her book beside me in the middle of the night. And she's ready to ask if I'm ok.

"What's going on here?" 

But I beat her to it.

"What?"

Her eyes remain on her tied hands. My eyes never leave her. We're not dancing around this anymore. We're not going to keep twirling our food around secret forks.

"This, Spencer…" My eyes widen as she finally looks into mine, "…us."

The word floors me. Us. That's it, isn't it? That's what's happened. There's an us now.

"What do you mean?"

I glance to the side. A tired sigh filters through my tired lips. I glance back down at her. She's trying to smile. She's nervous. She's covering herself up. She's trying not to break. And I don't like it. I want her to break.

She needs to break.

I stare right through her, my eyes are reaching inside searching. I'm ready. I'm ready to walk inside a locked place. I'm ready to break down its door.

"What happened in Nantucket?"

She's not ready. She's been side lined. "What?" It's a whisper and it's not a question. It's a defense tactic. It's swatting me away. It's swinging desperately and helplessly into nothing. Her eyes are searching for safety. Searching for a life raft. For a way out.

I want to give her one. I reach out and place my hand over hers.

"Hey, it's ok, you can tell me."

She pulls away.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Spencer…" Suddenly I'm wearing a name tag. "…I know something happened. Anthony practically told me."

This was not something she wanted to hear. This was not comfort. This was betrayal.

"What...what did he tell you?"

Her eyes are not scared any more. Her eyes aren't afraid to look into mine. Her eyes are blazing into mine.

"Well..." I step back without realizing it "...I mean, he didn't really say anything, but it was implied that-"

"Stop."

I look at her looking at me. I see her terrified, cold, and covered. "Just stop. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh so that's how it is, huh?"

A bitter laugh pushes out from my lungs. I feel it bleed through me. I feel it fill my bones. I feel it reach out and slap her across the face.

"You get to come into my life uninvited and make yourself comfortable. You get to watch my misery like it were some sport or movie." She's not looking at me. She's looking at the counter. Her eyes are drawing those patterns now.

"You've seen me broken, you've seen me at my worse. I mean when I couldn't even piss on my own, let alone walk, you were there. All this time I thought it was cause you wanted to help me, cause you wanted to keep me company. That story about your tonsils..." I shake my head, I take a deep breath "..it was all bullshit wasn't it? You weren't there for me..."

I finish off my drink, I slam it down "...you were there for you."

This gets her attention. This hits her harder than any slap in the face.

"Of course I was there for you! Everything has been for you Ashley!"

"Why?!"

It's shrieked. It's loud. It's bouncing off the bare walls and pretty wood floors. And it's sliding right through her teary eyes.

She stumbles "I...I..."

"What are you getting out of this Spencer? What's in this for you?"

She shakes her head, as if it could shut me off. As if it were the light switch that's gonna shut me up. "I'm not..." She pushes herself off her bench "...I can't do this."

Her motions are frantic. Her direction is single minded. She's going for the door.

"No." It rushes out of my lips, "Wait, please." The words are desperately trying to stop her before my body can. She's not stopping, but I'm able to place myself between her and the door.

She stops, inches from me, "Please don't go." I look down at the floor "...please." It's whispered. It's choked. I'm sad. I'm about to lose everything again.

She doesn't say anything.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." I wince and look to the side, knowing I can't mention it again "...I'm just really confused, Spencer."

It's silent. "I know."

"But do you?" My eyes flick up to hers, I feel them squinting "...I mean do you really?"

Silence again.

"You've never shown yourself to me. I mean, you've smiled, you've laughed, you've told some stories. But they're not real. I've only seen you once..." I shake my head "...no twice. I've seen the real you twice. And it was when you talked about snow days. When you talked about Nantucket."

I can see her fidgeting. She lifts her head and tears are brimming in her eyes. Eyes that are looking helplessly to the ceiling. She shakily sighs. She's uncomfortable. She's so open now and she doesn't want to be. She's fighting it. She's wishing Anthony were here.

"I saw you when you talked about your heart."

With her face turned to the side somewhat, her eyes fall back on mine. She's biting her lip and hugging her body tight.

"Spencer..." I move closer to her, my hands tentatively sit on her arms, my body tries to fill Anthony's impossibly big shoes, "...your heart is still out there. It's not far. It's right where you've always said it is. Snow days are only twenty six miles out to sea. Snow days are alive."

I see her lips shaking. I see tears falling like snowflakes in summer. This is not something I'm supposed to see. This isn't supposed to happen. This never happens.

"Your heart is still alive, Spencer."

The snowing stops. The shaking stops. Tears are drying. Everything becomes so clear. So focused. Dots and lines are fading away. They're becoming real. They're turning into actuality.

She looks into my eyes and I see her. I see Spencer. I see her as a little girl. I see her smiling. I see her happy. I see her so sad. I see her best and worst days. Everything is right inside those eyes.

"That's where you're wrong Ashley."

I'm confused. My eyes show it. My hands grip for understanding. My hands hold her tighter.

"Snow days aren't alive, they're so far gone. And my heart, my heart is not just twenty six miles away..."

She uncrosses her arms, gently pushing my hands away at the same time. She walks around me. She walks around the frozen person I've become. I hear her open the door. I feel her looking at me, like I have all night. And before she leaves, before I hear the door click behind her, I hear the last line. I hear the last dots connected.

"...my heart's dead, Ashley..."

A shaky deep breath. Wet eyes closed.

"...just like yours."


	10. The Ghosts

I remember waking up in the middle of the night. I remember how my tired eyes would blink open. My curious hands would stretch across crisp sheets; my curious hands found nothing. Always left with nothing but the bed's freshness.

I'd fumble for my cell phone, looking for the time and a phone call. Always an early morning hour, never a message.

I'd roll on my back and stare at the white ceiling. I'd watch every circle the fan made. Waiting for when I'd chance the house. For when I'd look for her. I might have heard something in the living room, I might only believed I had. Whatever the reason, I'd finally slide from beneath that white comforter. I'd feel my earlier beers. I 'd smell the cigarette smoke on my hair. It was starting to bother me. It was almost nauseating.

I remember how my heart would lift when I caught the living room light on. When I found her sitting on the couch. Sometimes the TV was on. Sometimes there was music playing. Sometimes she was just there in silence. A lazy hand petting a lazy Hunter in her lap.

This time there was silence. This time it was just her. Just her and an untouched open beer on the table before her. Her body was so relaxed on the couch.

"Hey there..." my body leaned against the wall to the side of her, bare arms crossing before my tank top torso. She turned her drunk eyes towards me. They were always smiling. They were always awake. They were always alive.

"Hey beautiful." Crooked lips covered her teeth, a crystal blue eye winked at me. Any concern, any worry from before disappeared. She had me too easily.

She just had me. She always did.

I shuffled over and flopped down beside her warm body. Her heavy head rested on my shoulder before I even hit the couch. Her hand held onto mine so warmly. Her fingers whispered "I'm sorry" against my cool skin. Her thumb rubbed it into me so strongly. So honestly.

I always believed it.

I kept my eyes on our hands. "So did you have a good time?" Her head mindlessly nodded into my neck. Her fingers stroked me harder. She made her silent apologies louder.

"Only when you were there, though." The words breathed across my skin, and I closed my eyes. I held her words deep inside. I believed them. I stroked my fingers against her hand. I made hers stop apologizing.

"I missed you, Ash." Our hands rose as her lips found the back of mine, kissing it all better. Kissing everything away.

"Yeah well.." my body slid further down the couch, letting our heads rest together, "...you know how much of a lightweight I can be."

I felt her tipsy giggles against my body. I felt them dissolve away, I felt them swiftly leave the room. I felt her lips as they blanketed my ear. A soft honest voice gently walked inside me.

"All I know is how perfect you are."

I rolled my eyes. I playfully swatted her arm. "Oh shut up." laughed it's way out of my mouth.

She wasn't laughing. She moved off the couch, putting herself in front of me. Putting her direct face in front of mine. She looked at me for what seemed an eternity. Her eyes were taking a picture. I watched her remember me. I watched her take in every single dimple and line on my face. I saw her etching it into her memory. I saw her holding so tightly. I saw her holding me inside a safe place.

"I mean it Ashley..." Her wide eyes were so serious, "...you're it." Her hand gently came out to brush the loose curls from my face "...you're it for me."

I wasn't giggling. I wasn't playful. I turned my photographic eyes on her. I etched her in my memory. It was a moment. It was a moment that hits you. Hits you so hard. The kind you hold on to. The kind you know how important it is as it unfolds. You know it and you store it inside of you. All of it. Every insignificant detail that means everything. The way her pony tail was lopsided. The way hunter padded down the hall. The way I could smell the beer on her. The way she never smelt better.

"I know." It was all I could say. It was all I had to say.

She kissed me so lightly. So gentle, as if at any moment I'd break. As if I were covered in "handle with care" stickers. I felt it inside her. I felt her afraid that at any minute she'd lose me. And I felt it too. I felt the same. I held her so tightly with light lips. We whispered "I love you"s between feather light kisses. And with each kiss I forgot my frustration from earlier. I forgot my disappointment. I forgot everything I felt when I left the party. When I left alone. When I was without her. I forgot how leaving alone was becoming customary.

I forgot waking up alone. I forgot fumbling around sheets. I forgot no phone calls and late hours.

"Hey..." her warm lips left mine, her loving eyes looked down where our kisses once were "...play for me, will you?"

Innocent eyes turned to mine. She looked like a little kid. She looked like a little girl on Christmas eve, asking to open her presents. And I never refused. I never turned her down. One quick roll of the eyes, and I was inside the palm of her hand.

Just like that.

I held my guitar in my lap. I played perfectly, expertly. Flawlessly.

Just for her.

I sang the words so softly, so truthfully, so meaningfully. When my eyes were open, they were on her. When the words meant too much I closed them. When I felt them all too hard in my heart. When I couldn't look anywhere but inside myself.

Her eyes applauded me. Her eyes kissed me. Her eyes loved me.

And the longer I looked into them the more they gave me everything I needed. I forgot again. I forgot everything. I forgot my suspicions. My assumptions. I forgot why she stayed out. I forgot the way it drove me crazy. The way it slowly killed me.

The way I believed she was cheating on me. The way I was sure there was another.

It's only now, looking back, that I remember. That I know the truth. I know I assumed too much. I know how wrong I really was. I know how different things would have been. If only I were right.

It's only now I wish I were right. I wish she were cheating on me. Because then I'd only be heartbroken. I wouldn't have Spencer reminding me of my dead heart. I wouldn't be reminded period. She wouldn't be dead.

And I'd break my heart into a million pieces if it'd change that. I'd break myself completely if I could have her back.

I hear a womans sniffling die down outside of me. I blink and I'm back. I blink and I'm not in that living room. I blink and I'm in a weeping circle again. I glance around and see our attention focused on the older than she looks Lisa. A thirty year old trapped inside a fifty year olds body. She's dotting her cheeks with a hanky.

She's so polite in her grieving.

Lisa's sister died of a brain aneurysm three years ago. Lisa is here every Friday. I stare at her. I stare and wonder if I'm seeing myself in three years.

That's the thing about this place, this "therapy". The longer we stay in here the longer we stay inside our grief. No one's progressing here. This circle is like an alternative universe. A world where we can still hold on to the people we've lost. Where we grip them so tight between our white tissues and empty coffee cups.

It's a world where we never have to let go. A world we can hide in.

For the past three Friday's I've been hiding in this world. Three Friday's since I last saw Spencer, since we fought, and I've been trying to live in this world. I was lonely. I had no one. Without Spencer, no one calls. No one stops by. No one cooks dinner. I have to do everything on my own. I'm alone.

I'm alone and scared. 

For the past three weeks all I've had are these Fridays. All I've had is Lisa's permanently damp hanky. All I've had are Stacy's friendly eyes. All I've had are Jack's manly sobs.

All I have is this strange world. And I'm tired of it.

"Well..." Stacy leans forward, hands on her knees "...that's it for tonight, guys." She looks around "...see you next Friday?"

It's a question that needs no answer. It's an invitation that needs no RSVP. This world is always open. This world is always there waiting for you.

But I don't need it. I'm done for tonight. Maybe being alone is better.

I toss another empty friend in the trash and walk out. The heavy front door opens and June's humid night air covers me. A California summer is here and it's hard. It's rough. So rough. This summer is the beer that keeps getting shoved in your hungover face. It's the alcohol you can't take but it's all you can smell. It's all around you, reminding you, sickening you.

This summer is the ghost that I need to escape and never will.

I breathe hard down the front concrete steps. My mind goes to Spencer briefly. My mind wonders what she's up to. My mind wonders if we'll ever talk again. My mind wonders why she hasn't called. My mind wonders why I haven't called her.

"Hey Ashley."

The voice startles me as I stop before my car. I'm hesitant before glancing to my left.

"Oh..." Anthony's tall frame stands on the beaten down sidewalk before my car "...hey."

I watch him unsure, wondering which Anthony stands before me. The charming friend or the intimidating body guard. He holds out a cup of coffee. His smile shows a friend. I let my guard down and walk towards him.

"Thanks."

He just smiles, sliding a free hand into his jean pocket as he glances to the side. "Sit?" His head motions towards a bench.

"Uh...sure."

His body relaxes on the old boards while mine does the opposite. Mine is tense and upright. Once again I hold on to my coffee. I hold on for dear life. At least this cup's hot. At least this cup is fresh. At least this cup sits inside a real world. A world that reminds me I'm alive.

"So how you doing?"

His arm sits across the back of the bench and his legs are loosely crossed. His body makes this bench seem more comfortable, more inviting, than it actually is.

"Ok..." my eyes glimpse to the side before falling back to my cup holding hands "...I guess."

"I hope you don't mind me stopping by. I promise I'm not stalking you" he laughs, and I lightly do too, he makes me feel better, "...Spencer told me you come to these meetings."

Oh, right...Spencer. He must notice it. He must notice my body tensing, he must know the name's sensitivity, as he continues, "Yeah, Spencer..."

It's a thought he never finishes. He just lets it hang out there, as if I'm going to complete it for him. It's mysterious bait on a sharp hook, and I'm not biting.

"Anthony?," He looks at me kindly. "...why are you so nice to me?"

I feel my body relax somewhat from the question. From a question I've been needing to ask. I finally sit back and turn to him, I can feel his bare arm against my back. It's his turn to look down. It's his turn to think. It's his turn to debate it. To decide whether or not he wants to tug on my line.

"You remind me of someone."

He looks at me with hidden meaning covered in his eyes, his smile, his words. A meaning that's not so hidden. A meaning I finally get.

At least, I think I do.

"Spencer?"

A light nod gives me my answer. A light nod pats me on the back for a job well done.

"She hates me." The words quickly leave my tight lips. A sharp laugh pushes it's way through them as well. He laughs too. He laughs in a way that's more "you're wrong" than "that's funny."

"What..." My eyes are nervous, my mind's unsure on what to think "...she does." It comes out so quiet, so silent. So afraid the words are true.

He laughs again. "You think you're always right, don't you?"

"Huh?"

"I don't mean it offensively..." He adjusts his body and he gets comfortable. As if he's buckling the seat belt for whatever ride he came here to take. "...you're just a person who always thinks they know what's going on. You think everything you believe is the truth, don't you?'

I'm ready to answer quickly, I'm ready to shut him down. But I don't. I can't. I'm not sure why, but by the way he laughs I think he knows.

"It's not a bad thing, love, I'm the same way."

My face turns towards him, eyes still a little confused.

"I mean we can always spot ourselves in a crowd, right?" He leans closer to me, eyes squinting slightly, just like hers would when she was about to tell me a secret "You and me, kid..." an affectionate smile "...we're not that far apart."

He leans back again, eyes looking out to the parking lot "And she doesn't hate you, believe me, I know..." A smart ass smile flies my way "...I am always right, after all."

We sit there in the silence. I hear crickets chirping between each passing car. He seems like he's in no rush to leave, and neither am I. I like the company. I like feeling not so alone. I like this world. I like it so much more than the circle world behind me. Then the empty white walled world waiting for me.

"She's a special girl, you know."

His voice hits me inside. Something about his honesty. Something about his affection. It hits me in my heart. I don't say anything though. I remain quiet. There's nothing to say. There's nothing I could possibly add. I wouldn't tell Michael Jordan how to slam dunk. And I wouldn't tell Anthony anything about Spencer. I wouldn't because he already knows. He knows it all and I'm only here to listen.

I want to listen.

"She's gone through a lot. You know that, you understand it. But you still don't completely understand. There's a lot she still has to tell you, and she will..." A long sip of coffee "...when she's ready."

"I'm sorry."

It leaves my lips before I can stop it. It's the most honest I've been in a long time.

"I know you are, but you don't need to be." His eyes hold so much wisdom inside them, so much outside of this conversation. "...if I'm going to be honest, I'm glad you pushed her. I'm really glad. She needs it..."

A sigh.

"She needs to break."

I feel a weight lift. I watch a cloud of guilt fade away. And I know not to ask any further. I know he's not going to tell me.

"You've been a good friend Ashley."

I have to laugh. I have to acknowledge the sarcasm in that statement.

"No I'm serious..." he's not laughing "...Spencer's changed. Especially these past three weeks."

The coincidence hurts. "Yeah cause I'm not around."

But he's not going to let me go that easily. He's not gonna let me believe it.

"Oh that's bullshit and you know it. You woke that girl up, Ashley. You ripped her eyes open..." there's a meaningful pause, "...and they haven't closed since."

I don't know if it's a good thing. I don't know if I want to believe it.

"Yeah..." I don't want to believe it "...right."

He shakes his head and bites his lip "There you go again..." knowing eyes fall on me "...assuming."

I roll my eyes. He rolls his.

"Fine you don't believe me. Ok. But if you had no effect on her..." He stands tossing his coffee in the trash beside us. His eyes return to mine, that hidden meaning blanketing them once again.

"If that's truly the case...why am I boarding a plane next week?"

I look up to him, confusion sitting on my face.

"Why am I going to my family's summer house in Nantucket?"

My eyes widen. My mouth opens. I stand. I have to.

"Is she..." suddenly I'm too afraid to finish my question. I'm too afraid and I don't know why.

He simply nods, there's a sadness in his eyes that I can't read, "Four days there and she's already called." He sighs. His shoulders seem so heavy. " She's called too many times." I see the bodyguard flush through him for a moment. He smiles and it disappears.

I look to the ground. I feel responsible. I feel guilty. Whatever Spencer's going through right now, whatever pain she's in, whatever reason she's gone to Nantucket, I'm the reason for it.

"Don't feel bad, Ash. This is a good thing."

My eyes turn to his truthful ones. He looks so serious, so honest, that I have to believe him. I have to lightly nod my head.

"Which brings us to the reason I'm here." He kind of shuffles his feet, he kind of beats around the bush "...I know this is really pretty random and a shit load of pressure..." one deep breath "...but would you come with me?"

I blink. My voice trips outside my mouth. I don't know what to say. I don't even know if I heard him right. If he really asked that. I wasn't expecting that. He looks like he figured as much. He laughs.

"I know, it's a lot to ask, like a fucking lot to ask...but you've come to mean a lot to her. To Spencer. She'd want you there. She needs you."

"Oh yeah I'm sure." I'm still not seeing whatever he sees. I'm still not ready to believe.

And he still can't believe me. His head shakes and his eyes widen. "Man, you still haven't gotten it have you?" He leans in, a quirky smile on his face. "You still don't know that I'm always right."

He's playful. He's joking. It lifts the heavy air. I laugh. He laughs. He's joking but I know he believes it. I know he thinks he's right. My eyes look into his. I take in everything he's said. Everything he just asked me.

I'm not sure he's right.

"I appreciate it, Anthony, I really do. That you care and you think I can help. But I haven't heard from Spencer. She hasn't tried to see or talk to me. So I have to assume she'd rather not have me there."

His head tilts slightly "Ahh, yes..." mouth hanging open, more curious staring "...there's the other thing..."

I look at him confused.

"You still assume too much."

He gives me one last friendly smile and walks away. I hear his steps taking him further away, but his voice still finds me.

"When you realize it, give me a call." a confident chuckle "We leave next Wednesday"

I stand in place. I let his words hit me like the humid heavy hair I'm standing in. His words hang around me like the stale alcohol surrounding my weary self.

I don't know if Anthony's right. I don't know anything.

Crickets chirp. Cars pass. I can smell the ocean if I try hard enough. This is what I know. This is everything I know. This haunting ghost that sweeps around me. This summer that keeps wrapping it's mean arms around my little body.

This is all I know. And it's killing me. It surrounds me more and more every day.

I look to my car. I feel a tightness in my chest.

I need an escape.

I take a deep breath. I exhale.

Maybe I just found one.


	11. Families

Families are strange. We're all given one on the day we're born. Some of us are more lucky than others, some of us actually get to know these people. Some of us share our lives with them. Some of us are loved unconditionally the minute we enter this earth.

Then there are the others who aren't so lucky. There are those of us who have to build our own families. We have to find our own people to share our lives with. We have to hope and pray that someone will love us in the way we need. That we will find someone to love in the way we need.

The really unlucky ones never find anyone. The really unlucky ones are the people who never let anyone in.

I don't know who I am. If you ask me I think I've been lucky and unlucky. I was given a family when I was born. I gave my parents a family, even if they weren't planning on it. But those people only live inside my younger years. When I was too young to remember. When the memories were supposed to fade with the years that passed until there was nothing left. Until I couldn't distinguish between what really happened and what I only believed had. What I wanted to believe.

But I never had to believe. I remember everything about those years. My first family. Those people. Those memories sit inside a tight safe with a combination only I know. With a combination I've never shared.

Those memories are too precious. Too personal. Too everything.

Memories of my childhood. Before it got bad. When all I had were my undone shoelaces. When a rainbow bright backpack never left my sticky fingers. Days were so easy then. I was still too young to understand how things could change. I never thought they would.

I had a mom, an amazing mom. A mom I couldn't imagine losing. I never knew I was going to in a few short years. She was gonna change. A cold stranger would try to remain inside my mothers warm frame. A square squished inside a breaking circle. It wasn't going to work. But we still had time then. We still had each other. She loved me. We smiled together. She tickled my stomach. She bounced me on her knee. She kissed my nose and laughed so loud.

She loved my dad. She whispered in his ear. She held his hand.

Dad wasn't famous yet. He still had time for mom and me. He made sure of it. He had us and that's all he wanted. We were all he needed. The nights he sung me to sleep, the shoulders he walked me on; it was all enough. More than enough. He was happy. I watched him happy with mom.

When I was supposed to be asleep, I watched them slow dance in the kitchen. I watched the way he looked into her eyes. I watched him love her.

But one day he became famous. One day everyone wanted a piece of him and they wanted too much. They wanted it all and he gave it to them. He gave everything meant for us. For mom and me. We were left with nothing. Everything became a memory after that. My family stopped living. They were gathering dust and I had to remember. I had to lock them up before they left me completely. I had to save them because they were all I had. They were everything.

Time went on. Life progressed. I tied my own shoes. I didn't need anyone's shoulders to walk on. I sung myself to sleep. Mom stopped laughing. She stopped tickling. Dad was gone more and more. They stopped kissing. She stopped holding his hand. They stopped dancing. He stopped looking. They both stopped loving. 

And so did I.

I was unborn again. I had no family. I was all I had.

Until I met Shawn. That day I met a new family. The safe opened again. I made a place for her. I knew she was worth saving. I knew she was worth everything.

Shawns house was full of laughter and love. Full of story telling and commotion. She had two sisters and one brother. She had a mother who wore cooking gloves and folded laundry. She had a father who should have been as absent as mine, but wasn't.

She had it all. And she let me have it too.

I practically moved into her house. What started off as one sleepover a week, became more. Random Tuesdays and Thursdays were added to the mix. I started leaving my clothes there. Her mom started folding them. My toothbrush sat next to Shawns, and so did my seat at the dinner table. Her family called me Ash and hugged me.

Shawn was the key. She was everything. We stayed up all night talking. We smoked cigarettes in the secret folds of her back yard. We drank rum on her bedroom floor. We rolled joints and smoked them outside her window.

I was lucky again. I had someone who loved me unconditionally. I let someone in.

Shawn and I started sharing her bed. I started singing her to sleep. I started waking up with her arms around me. I started turning around between them. There were more and more awkward moments. There were heavier silences. We became more under those blue bed sheets. We evolved as we slept. We innocently became intimate. We didn't have to do anything.

We never had to do anything. It always came easily. Shawn always had an answer. She always knew what to do. She was my one. She held me together.

And when I broke she found the pieces. She found the pieces and let me put them back together. She knew that's how it had to be. She always knew.

She knew when Kyla showed up. The day family number three entered my life.

The family I wasn't ready to accept. I wasn't ready to let this one in. I was sixteen. Sixteen and dad thought it was time I met my half sister. I was still waiting to meet him. To have my father again. I was still waiting on that family. Something I'd never have again. 

But he didn't think of that. He never thought of anyone outside of himself.

So there I was. Sweet sixteen and I gained a sister.

Sweet sixteen and I lost a father. I really lost him. This time it was my choice.

I wanted it that way. I wanted nothing to do with him. I was supposed to be his daughter. His only one. His favorite. But he changed all that. He brought a stranger to my home. A smeared mirror image of myself, and all I wanted to do was break it. Throw it away. Never look into it again.

But I couldn't. The best I could do was break him. Throw him away. Never look at him again. So that's what I did. I killed the messenger, and haven't seen him since. He tried. I let him. One day he stopped. One day I stopped caring.

One day I convinced myself I had.

Kyla was still there though. Kyla was everywhere. She was outgoing and social. Pretty and petite. She got good grades and always knew what to say. She made fast friends that lasted. She was so nice to me. So loving. So understanding. Everything a sister would want and I hated it.

I hated her.

Mom loved her. My mom. The mother who was never there started sticking around. She should have hated her. She should have seen her former husbands affair when she looked into those soft eyes. That's what I saw after all.

But she didn't. She saw the daughter she wished she had. When she looked at Kyla in her pretty clothes and neat braids she saw me. She saw her ten year old princess. The one she lost one day to the beach.

Kyla tried though. Kyla always put on a smile through my put downs. She always held a hand out between my claws. Kyla always included me and Shawn always included her. Shawn liked her. Shawn saw her. She saw the person I refused to let my eyes see.

Shawn knew what I didn't. What I couldn't let myself know.

And then I knew. One day after many hard months, I saw what Shawn saw. It was slow. It took time to peek through the hands covering my eyes. But eventually my fingers separated. They moved away from my eyes. One by one. Until finally there was nothing holding me back. There was nothing blocking the mirror before me. The mirror that wasn't smeared anymore. It wasn't dirty. It was perfectly clear and I saw her.

I saw me.

Nearly eighteen and I really met my sister. I finally knew Kyla. I finally let her in and realized she was one of the best things to ever happen to me.

I found a real family again. I had two families. I was among the lucky. I was walking through life with a safety net. I was untouchable. I had it good for awhile and it didn't take long for me to lose it again. I didn't take long for luck to leave me. For my biggest constant to disappear. Once again, memories of a constant are all I have. Shawn only gathers dust now, inside my tight safe. Shawns merely a memory.

Kyla's all I have left. My last and final family. And on days like today she's all I need. I'm blessed to have Kyla on days like today.

Because today is Wednesday. And any minute now we're going to land in Nantucket. Me, Kyla, Anthony, and Aiden are about to enter a new world. We all needed each other for different reasons. Separate circumstances brought us together.

Spencer needed Anthony. Anthony needed me. I needed Kyla. I don't know if she needed Aiden, but she wanted him there. If it meant we'd all get on the plane, no one was going to say no. Strangely the most removed person from the situation had the most power over it. Aiden was the puzzle piece we all needed to fit together.

Anthony said the more the merrier. I still wonder if that's what Spencer said. Something tells me it wasn't, no matter how many times Anthony assures me she's cool with it.

But it's too late to worry if she is or not. The four of us are here now, sitting inside this shaky and rumbling plane. All sharing the same space in this foreign place. Somehow we share it comfortably. We fit together. Our different world dots hold lines strong enough to connect us. Our lines are long enough to bring us together.

I can hear Kyla giggling behind me. I'm sure Aiden holds her hand the same way Anthony holds mine. The way he takes care of me. The way he heard through me when I told him I hated flying. The way he knew it went beyond the flight. He knows I need to be taken care of.

We're descending now. We're about to share more foreign space together. A smaller more intimate space. Kyla squeezes my shoulder. She takes care of me. I turn sideways and smile. I let her in. I let her help.

I feel us hit the pavement. I close my eyes.

It's so strange how families are born.

Kyla's hand rests on my shoulder. 

It's not always blood that holds us together. 

Anthony's thumb rubs over my skin.

Sometimes it's what we go through. What we experience and share that connects us.

We hit the ground and Aiden let's out a playful "Woo". The pilot's voice blankets the wheels rolling on the pavement.

"Ladies and gentlemen...welcome to Nantucket."

I turn to my side and see Anthony smiling. I hold his hand tighter. I inch closer to lucky.

I let Anthony in. I smile.

I find another family.


	12. Blankets

We were thirteen the first time Shawn and I got caught drinking. Mrs. Carhart was not happy. Unlike my mother, she cared. She was disappointed. Shawn didn't care of course. She only shrugged her shoulders. She went on with her day. But I cared. I was disappointed. I was nervous.

I was scared. I was scared I wouldn't be allowed to come over anymore.

It was a Thursday night. We didn't have homework, although it wouldn't have mattered even if we did. Nothing mattered then. Life consisted of just us. Me and her between those deep blue bedroom walls. I brought over some Patron my father kept at the house. The only thing he left me. The only physical reminder of him. And it was our key. Our necessity. We needed it. Things were starting to change. Things were too hard. Truth and honesty were becoming the things we feared. Just like monsters in the night. The liquor was the blanket we'd throw over our eyes, as if it could hide us. As if nothing would ever be found. Lines were crossed without realizing it. Shot after shot and the blanket started sliding off. More hands on knees. More resting foreheads. More cheeks kissed. Toeing the line of more, never diving in.

We were still too young to know better. We didn't know what diving really was. We didn't know it was the good part. We didn't know it was everything.

We'd know eventually, but not that night. We were only sinking in that Thursday night.

The breeze blew through the windows. Shawn fidgeted with the music more and more. The air was thick and sticky. Summer was on it's way. I felt her eyes on me. I felt her wanting more. I knew it then. I always knew it. She wanted me. She loved me in a way I didn't even understand yet. And I was starting to love her the same way.

I was starting to throw on more blankets. I needed to hide even more. 

I drank more shots than her. She laughed. She giggled. She didn't know I was hiding from her. Or maybe she did. That was thing about Shawn; I never knew. She was good to me. Too good. She hid her pain well. Too well. If she were hurt, I rarely knew it. No matter how many sleepovers we shared. No matter how clearly I saw through her. That was always hidden. That was her monster in the night. That's what she had to pull over her eyes.

A sheet covered her pain.

She clumsily sat down next to me, resting her arms on her knees before her chest. Her blue eyes shone through her messy hair, like they always did. It was longer than normal. She was starting to grow it out. I was starting to notice 

She was becoming more beautiful. I noticed. She was becoming sexy. I noticed a lot.

Her head tilted, just watching me. I remember the room shifting. The spins were coming on. The ones where the room plays tag with your eyes. Always moving a step ahead. Always sliding before you can see what's before you.

Everything stopped shifting when I saw her watching. When her blue eyes shone through mine. This time nothing would break it. This time I wouldn't dumbly ask "what". The blankets were so close to falling over the edge. She brought her hands down to the carpet. She weighed her options. I was still naïve enough, or drunk enough, to not know what those options were.

I knew it as soon as I felt her hand on my face. I felt the cool air setting on my exposed skin. I saw the darkness all around me as her thumb circled my cheek. Her eyes were bright and kind. Her skin was soft and warm. She had freckles on her nose. I always knew they were there, but I never truly saw them. Things were so different up close. The face I knew so well was different inches from mine. That face was even more pretty.

And then I wasn't so afraid. The blankets were off and there was nothing to be scared of. There were no monsters in the dark. There was only her. There was only light. Her smile kept me safe. Her hand slid behind my head. Nothing could hurt me here.

Nothing until I felt it. Until the Patron was ready to say hello again, or goodbye, however you wanted to look at it. I don't even remember how I got up and made it to the bathroom, but when I did, everyone knew it. I fumbled through the door and crashed to the ground. Hands grabbing the shower curtain to keep from falling. Hands pulling the whole rod and it's rings with me. Of course the tequila thought mid fall was a good time to make it's appearance.

Everyone under the Carhart roof knew how much I was trying to hide that night. Everyone knew our nightly activities. They were not happy.

If I thought the hangover I had to carry with me through school the next day was bad, I didn't know what was to come that night. Of course I slept over Shawn's. It was Friday night. I was never anywhere else. And something made me feel like I really had to be there for this one. I felt like I needed to be punished. Just like Shawn. I wanted to be there. Knowing I was in trouble almost made me happy.

Someone cared enough to be mad. Someone cared enough to make me better.

We hung out in her room most of the night. We ate dinner in silence. We were ready to shuffle back up the stairs, almost believing there'd be no talk. There'd be no grounding.

"Girls..." we stopped mid step, Shawn glimpsed back at me, hand-in-the-cookie-jar-smile on her face. She whispered a "fuck" between a tiny laugh. "...wanna come down here for a minute?"

I felt my heart drop. My stomach churned. I forgot what it was like to be in trouble. To be disappointed in. I was quickly remembering.

We solemnly walked back into the kitchen and I felt my stomach churn in a different way. The kitchen table had an array of beverages set out. Mrs. Carhart was sitting among them, leaning back in her chair, mischievous smile facing us.

"So you girls like to drink, eh?"

Shawn sighed, "Mom."

I nearly died. Just looking at the bottles and I could taste the vomit. I still didn't understand what was happening.

"Well come on, you're such big drinkers, I thought we could spend some time together." She smiled the whole time.

I looked to Shawn as if we could escape. Shawn rolled her eyes and sat down. I had no other choice but to follow.

"Let's see if you two can hold your own with me..." she comically looked both ways and leaned closer to us "...I used to be a heavy weight in my day, drank your dad under the table every time."

I swallowed. Hard. This wasn't happening.

"So what will it be...I know tequila..." she winked at me "...was a favorite. But I don't know..." her hand went for a clear bottle "...I'm more of a vodka tonic girl myself."

She started pouring and I could smell it's sharp taste. My mouth started watering.

Shawn shrugged again. "Hmmm..." she grabbed a bud light can, cracked it open "...I think I'm feeling more like beer tonight." She smiled at her already smiling mom. I had no clue how Shawn did it. She was hurting just as much as me. I knew she was.

But I didn't understand the pain thing then. I didn't know Shawn's need to always prove herself. To never fail. To never look weak.

"Excellent choice my dear," I could tell Mrs. Carhart was wavering, unsure of her plan, but she kept sifting through the bottles, kept that smile right on her face as she looked at me. "Well Ash...what do you say, rum and Coke..." her eyes lit up when she grabbed something "...gin and tonic??"

That was all I needed. Gin was my kryptonite. Even then, I knew I didn't like it. I knew I never would. And I never have. I wonder if it's because of that night.

I covered my mouth. I felt an upcoming repeat performance from last night. I felt the encore on it's way.

"Oh God..." I closed my eyes "...stop, please, stop."

Shawn's hand sat on my back, Mrs. Carhart laughed.

"You're sure, Ash, I mean I brought out the good stuff just for –"

"I'm never drinking again." I threw my hands out, palms facing her and her arm, eyes still clamped shut "...I swear. I don't even think it's physically possible."

Silence held the air for a few moments. Silence until decisions were made. "Well girls, that's the thing, I know drinking is gonna happen again..." I opened my eyes and saw her doing the table lean, "...believe it or not I was once your age." She smiled and laughed.

We did too.

"But do you think we could put it off for a few years? Perhaps later on in high school?" She crossed her arms "...and please," her voice was so kind "...please don't over do it. When you're old enough to have a tolerance, respect it, ok?"

Her eyes smiled into mine and I nodded. Shawn giggled, I could feel her eyes laughing at me "...yes, mom."

But I kept looking at Mrs. Carhart. I kept looking. This was important. This was a moment of proving myself to someone who cared. This was a moment I wanted to prove myself.

"I will."

And I did. I meant it. She looked at me, no more disappointment. She smiled like a mother. She loved me like one.

"Alright..." She stood "...I'm gonna put away this brewery, " we chuckled, Mrs. Carhart was the best "...and when I'm done I was thinking we'd head over to the video store, what do you guys say?"

I was into movies. I was so into them. Shawn wasn't. Shawn so wasn't. But she squeezed my hand under the table. She smiled at me. She whispered "definitely."

Maybe it was because I couldn't think of drinking. Maybe it was because I needed something to hold onto. Maybe I was just happy. But I didn't want to hide this time. I didn't want any blankets. I squeezed back. I squeezed her hand between both of mine.

Today I'm back at that table. There are bottles everywhere. The one thing I've overdosed myself on. The one thing I can't take is all around me. I need something to hold onto. I need somewhere to hide.

Kyla's held my hand. The whole time. With each breath of ocean air I've inhaled, I've squeezed her harder.

I don't know what I was thinking coming to a tiny island. An island where the ocean is all you breathe. Where sand covers everything; where sand covers the roads you drive on. Even when you leave the beach, it still follows you on the paths that lead you home.

There isn't a cloud in the sky. The sun shines brightly. I can smell flowers mixing in with the salt.

The one thing that's kept me from getting ill. The one thing that makes this a different table is that this beach is not the same. This air is a stranger. I've never breathed this before. It's light. It's fresh. This air feels untouched. There isn't humidity. The middle of June, and there's crispness. There's nothing heavy about what surrounds me.

The ocean smells different. And as we move closer to it, it even sounds different.

This is punishment. No doubt about it. This is a reminder of all I've lost. But in a way, I feel the same way I did at that table. Thirteen years ago. I need this. I want it. For once, I need to pull the blankets away from my face. I need to not hide.

I have to face it all. Even if I'm not ready.

"And here's your room."

I blink and look at the two beds before me. I see a suitcase against the wall. There's perfume and make up on the dresser. Blankets are pulled back on one of the beds.

Spencer stands next to me.

"Sorry I kicked you out Spence..." Anthony's arms wrap around us, pulling me closer to her "...but it's only fair I get the master bedroom, right?"

"Whatever, it's fine" Spencer says in a way that isn't so friendly or humorous. I merely echo her "it's fine".

But it's not. We all know it. We all feel it. Spencer and I are sharing this room. For however long we're both here. We still haven't even hugged. Hell we haven't even said hello. Everything was so heavy when we got off that plane. When we walked into the small airport. When we saw Spencer waiting.

Spencer was not Spencer.

She wasn't here. Her eyes were somewhere else. Her smile was gone. I took one look at her and I knew. I knew where she'd been, where she'd gone, and where she still was.

She was inside snow days. She was right where I've been. Right where I've been trying to leave. Spencer was inside her past, but she wasn't. She was watching her past. She only saw snow days. She saw them through a glass case. In her eyes, I could see the way she's tried to touch them. The way her fingers only bumped against clear walls each time.

I saw Spencer tired. Sad. Alone. And then I saw Anthony hold her. I saw her hold him. Wrapping each other in those safe blankets. The blankets I've learned we all use. Theirs shielded her from us. From Kyla, Aiden and Me. From us shuffling our shoes and checking our bags.

From us avoiding.

But I couldn't avoid. I couldn't stop watching her. My eyes stayed on her for the whole ride to this house. Fixed on the hands held between her and Anthony in the car. The sunglasses covering her eyes. Just another blanket. It distracted me from my own. It distracted me from everything surrounding me and reminding me.

It made me want to pull her glasses off. I wanted to look inside. I wanted be inside.

And now I am. The door just shut. The door pushed me further in this room with Spencer. Just us in our room.

Our room.

The beds are small and close. There are drawings framed on the walls. The white walls that look so much more full than the ones I have at home. These walls, even in their bareness, have been painted on. They've been touched. Love has flushed over them.

I wheel my bag further inside. I drop it by Spencers. My eyes catch two sandy haired boys beyond a glass panel. They look young. They look like Anthony.

"They're his half brothers." I glimpse back at Spencer, she's folding clothes on top of her bed "...this is their room."

"Oh." I face forward and look at the them again, as if I know them. As if I'll see them better now. I'll find more than I did before.

My eyes wander. I'm afraid to turn around, but I do. I finally sit on my bed, the colorful thick quilt sinks beneath my weight. Spencer's still folding.

She's avoiding.

"So..." I fold my hands "...how are you?"

"Ok..." she holds a pair of jeans, body half turned from her bed, my legs are close to hers "...I guess."

The words hang in the air, floating through the waves crashing outside our window. We're close to all I've been running from. So close. I can feel it in the air. I can feel the salt blanket my skin just like I have so many times.

I shake my head. I run and hide.

"Thanks for having us." It's stupid and pointless and I needed something to say.

She laughs shortly but not lightly. It's not a laugh. It's something she's doing to make noise. Just like I've done.

"Well...it's really thanks to Anthony."

"Right. Right." My head nods once and my hands come undone, palms going to rest on my jean covered knees.

Spencer busies herself. I watch. A shower starts out in the hall. The sun displays an earlier time than it feels. The afternoon is turning into evening. The breeze is cool as it flits past the light white drapes.

The breeze picks up. The breeze opens a book on the table between our beds. The breeze blows something to the floor.

Spencer hasn't noticed so I pick it up. I pull the photo from the ground and turn it over. It's an old picture. The corners are rounded. The colors have faded. Tiny veins run across where the top film has lifted.

Proof this picture holds more than it shows inside it. Proof this picture lives and breathes.

There are four people. Four smiling faces on a beach. Everyone with an arm around someone. Mouths opened in laughter. Pant legs rolled up, the bottoms painted darker. There's a black boy and another one that looks just like Spencer. There's a girl who looks like her too. I finally realize this girl is Spencer. Spencer smiling as a little girl.

I look at the picture again. Eyes touching each face more carefully. Tracing Spencer's smile into my memory. This time I do feel like I'm finding more. This time I feel like I know her.

Because this time, I have found more. This time, I've found her.

Spencer's in the middle of the two boys. There's a tall man behind them. His wide arms hold everyone safely between them. I don't have to know who he is to know who he is. He's the father. Their father. His arms are their blankets. He's the one that kisses them goodnight. He's the one that supports them and carries them.

He's what protects them from monsters in the night.

And then they're gone. My hands remain empty before me. Spencer's next to me.

"Oh..." my eyes flick up to her, "...sorry."

She doesn't say anything. She just closes them back inside the book. The book that looks awfully familiar.

"Family?"

I can't help myself. She holds the book in her hands, looking down on it, weighing my question. Weighing how to answer.

Finally she does. She nods but she doesn't look at me. I know she can't. I know it's too heavy. I see her. I see her eyes far away. I see her fingers bumping against glass.

I see her breaking my heart. I see her reminded.

I see her family gone.

I don't say anything. I don't want to expose her anymore. She's cold, she's scared, and I want her to stay safe. I want her to stay hidden.

So I give her a blanket. I timidly reach out. I take her hand. She flinches but doesn't pull away. Our hands remain restless inside each other. Both our eyes look at them. My thumb gently, nervously, brushes over her skin once. Covering her more. Protecting her.

And then she lets me in. She squeezes me back. Only once before she lets me go again. Before she completely covers herself.

"I'm a..." she hugs the book to her chest, she walks into glass walls "...just gonna lay out for a little while."

And I let her go. I have to. She needs to go. But I know she's not gone. We're both inside now. We both share the same blanket.

The door closes and I lie back on my bed. I stare up at the wooden ceiling. I'm suddenly so tired. I'm suddenly so very tired. Maybe it's because things are becoming so clear. Maybe it's because I know about Spencer. Because I know about me.

I know we're both scared. We're both shaking our heads and covering our faces. We're sharing the same blanket. We're both hiding beneath it. And just like every other blanket, we need to take it off. We need to rip it right from each others body.

But that's not quite it. There's something bigger than that. And suddenly that something hits me. I gasp as I realize it.

Spencer and I, we don't need to stop hiding from our past.

A salty tear slides down my salty skin.

We need to let it go.


	13. The Kissing Tree

The sky was ghostly gray. The night was dark. So dark. Darker than I probably remember. We laughed earlier in the night. We kissed and touched. We whispered inside jokes.

The clouds grew heavier above us. The clouds cried. The clouds weeped.

The clouds knew so much more than us.

I don't know when the laughter stopped. I don't know when things stopped being funny. But the rain pelted harder. We sat tensely inside a car neither one of us should have been driving. There was so much shouting. So much commotion between her seat and mine. I'd never heard her voice that way. I'd never seen her so upset. So angry. So pained. Her eyes never looked at me that way. They always warmed me.

But not that night. The last time her eyes looked into mine, they froze me. And it was right then, moments before I truly lost her, that I realized my Shawn was already gone.

I can still hear those windshield wipers wiping. Their swooshing and squeaking. Punctuating every harsh word. Punctuating, with every drop of rain, my tears. And for a second, they were all we could hear. Things halted in an instant. The world stopped, the universe came together.

Everything was one for a single moment. I felt it. She felt it. One single moment of perfect balance and symmetry.

And then it was lost. Chaos took over symmetry as everything shattered. Everything, everything slipped away from us. The wheels spun. Our voices screamed louder. Her eyes turned colder. The night was blacker than it was before. 

Everything was different than it was before. Everything.

I shiver.

I blink.

Squinting eyes search into the darkness. A cold breeze blows over my skin. It lightly shakes me awake. The black before me softens, the moon's light shines this room bright enough for my eyes to fix on our bags. For my eyes to remember.

Nantucket. I'm here. Spencer's here. This is our room.

It all comes back to me. Everything fills my memory again with every wave that lightly crashes outside. I sit up, a light blanket falls off me. It's silent and cold in here.

I yawn and hug my body, finally getting out of bed. Making my way outside, I grab a sweatshirt off my bag before shutting the door behind me.

A missed dinner wafts through the halls. Lights are mellow in the kitchen and living room. Mellow breathes all through this silent house. I smell a fire and follow it outside to the front yard. It's the only yard this house has. Flowers adorn the edges and hedges surround it. Comfortably isolating us.

Spencer is comfortably isolated in this yard tonight. She turns from her chair on the patio as the screen door smacks behind me.

"You're up."

I can feel the warmth from the chimenea before her. Its light flickers across her face, displaying patches of her small smile.

"Yeah." My mouth hangs open, the corners turning up. She pats the seat next to her and I accept the invitation. I happily accept it. Everything feels so safe out here, in this moment.

Settling down in my seat, I can smell her shampoo. Her hairs still wet and I can feel how fresh she is. It's surrounding me. She looks content. Relaxed. It makes me feel the same.

"Where is everyone?"

Her smile reminds me of the old Spencer. The one who took care of me. The one who held things together.

"Well Anthony was ready to have a night out, he's in complete 'go big or go home' mode. Of course he convinced Kyla and Aiden to come along. They're going to feel it in the morning, trust me. When you're out with Anthony, the next day is always rough..." She holds up her hands "...especially on this island."

She giggles and I find myself doing the same. "But there's some left over pizza in the fridge if you want any. Anthony picked it up earlier...along with half the liquor store." I can barely make out her eyes rolling in the soft light. I have to chuckle to myself, liking the fact that it sounds so Anthony. Loving the fact I know it's so him.

"Speaking of which..." she leans down to the side opposite me, bringing a bottle back up with her "...wine?"

"Yeah..." I shyly whisper, smiling, "...thanks."

She hands me a glass and leaves the bottle on the small table between us. It makes me feel safer having it there. It's a backup and I think it makes her feel the same way. I think it's why she put it there.

We both sit before the fire, casually sipping our wine. Casually letting the silence take us over.

"What time is it?"

I look towards her, she's sitting with her knees close to her chest. "A little after ten I think."

"Jesus..." taking in a large sip "...I guess I was more tired than I thought."

She laughs knowingly "Yeah...we were going to wake you up, but decided you weren't missing anything..." She does what I've realized is her customary head tilt, "...well aside from Anthony getting everyone tanked."

"Oh, I appreciate it." We both smile as her ease becomes more apparent. Leaning my head back, I wonder if Anthony succeeded with her. My eyes scan the clear sky. There are stars everywhere. I've never seen anything like it.

"Man, that's crazy."

It takes her a minute, but she finally looks up with me. "Oh I know, right? Ant and I used to lay here for hours just looking up at those stars."

My head falls towards her, and I find myself happy. I like hearing her smile. I like hearing about her past. I like hearing about things I don't know.

I like learning about her.

"You guys have really been friends forever, huh?"

"Yup..." She nods and glimpses towards me, smile sipping from her large glass "...My house was right around the corner...on Burnel Street..."

There's a pause and it feels like preparation. It sounds like she's getting comfortable, so I do the same. I bring my legs up onto the chair and hug them close.

"Summer after summer, Ant and I would spend every...single...day...together..." we both laugh. Her glass points to a low but wide tree to the left of us. "...see that tree over there?"

I nod.

"I kissed Anthony for the first and last time beneath it."

I try to hold my laughter in, but it still manages to dribble out of my mouth, "Seriously?"

She laughs too, eyes wide with the memory "Oh yeah, we were thirteen and it was _so_ hot."

I feel her sarcasm and laugh harder. Our chuckles flow together for a few moments before they softly die down. The fire cracks and I feel the mood changing with each pop. I feel something more serious brewing beneath her story.

"Yeah..." Her eyebrows seem furrowed as she looks inside her swirling glass. "...everyone pretty much knew Anthony was gay. His family, my family...but he fought it. It was a long time till he came out. I couldn't quite figure it out then, but I eventually understood, when you're young...when you're thirteen, gay isn't just scary."

A guttural chuckle falls from her lips.

"It's terrifying. That word..." she coughs "...it's too heavy with meaning. It's beyond anything you can comprehend."

This sounds so very familiar. I listen to her talk about my life. I listen and wonder if she's talking about hers too. Something about her voice, about her words, makes me wonder so much.

"Glenn and Mark, Anthony's older brother, they were really good friends..." She nods lightly and casts a sad look my way "...they were really mean to him, to Anthony. Just picked on him about who he was, you know, for being gay. They teased him about something he had no control over. Something he didn't even realize about himself. I just watched them. I didn't really understand. Well that's what I tell myself..."

A large guilty swig.

"...I wonder if I was just too afraid. Too scared of what people would think..." My mind races with what her words could possibly mean until her voice pulls me back in "...Either way I watched them do it. I watched Anthony embarrassed. I watched my best friend hurt and upset. He always acted like he didn't hear them. He always shrugged it off."

She looks over to that tree again, eyes flicking with each leaf blowing in the breeze.

"One day it was just too much, I couldn't watch anymore. We were all out here in this yard, the four of us, playing manhunt or something, and Mark called him a fag..." she winces and I find myself doing the same "...Everyone sort of stopped, I don't think we had ever heard someone say the word before...but we all knew what it meant. We all knew and it hurt us. It hurt me. I took one look at Anthony, saw the tears in his eyes, and that was it. I grabbed his hand, pulled him beneath that tree, and kissed him."

She looks at me intensely, we share it together. Her fingers shadow her mouth as she whispers almost to herself, "...I could feel his lips trembling, you know? They trembled so much against mine. I could feel how scared he was."

Her hand leaves her mouth, only to be replaced by more wine. The sadness in her eyes goes hidden.

"After that we silently made a pact...we'd always look after each other..." one long thoughtful pause, "...and we always have."

Suddenly I know Anthony. Like really know him. And even more so, I know Spencer. She's letting me inside. I'm seeing her and I like her. I like her even more. Not because of what she's done for me. Not for what connects us. But for who she is. For the person I'm finally meeting.

And now all three of our dots are bigger. Our lines are stronger. I feel it inside me and I like it.

The story settles over us as we finish our glasses. Before I can ask for a refill, Spencer's already pouring. I'm feeling my first glass and that only assures me that Spencer is definitely feeling hers. She's definitely feeling how many other glasses she had before it. And if I needed any more proof, the way she holds the bottle only cements it. I can't help but giggle as the liquid splashes and swishes inside my glass.

She sets the empty bottle on the ground, and motions her head behind us "Don't worry, there's plenty more inside. I wasn't kidding when I said Anthony stocked us up."

This is a new side to Spencer. This is a more exposed Spencer. And I'm terrible for thinking this, but it's a Spencer I can learn more about.

"Looks like we have a long night ahead of us, huh?"

I hold my glass out, awaiting the clank from hers. She smiles and carefully returns my cheers.

"I guess so."

I drink my wine that's never tasted better and all I can think is Nantucket's not so bad.

"So why didn't you go out with the rest of them?"

She shrugs, "Just wasn't in the mood, really..." a shyness graces her features "...and someone had to be here for when you woke up, right?"

My cheeks flush, a small feeling of guilt fills me as I whisper "Sorry."

"No worries..." Her eyes fix on the fire before us, her eyes fix too much "...I'm where I want to be."

The words are heavy with a meaning I'm not sure of. She leans forward, moving around logs that don't need to be moved around. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, as if she's afraid they'd add more to what's already been said.

I lean back in my chair, routinely sipping, feeling more comfortable. Maybe it's because I can already feel the wine. Maybe it's because I know she feels it too. But I'm brave and curious. And I feel safe enough to do something about it.

"So what about you?"

She looks at me with obvious confusion and I smile. It was my intention to draw it out.

"Gay, straight, bi,..." Her laughter walks a thin line between awkward and comfort, so I keep going "...all or none of the above?"

Half her wine disappears before she answers.

"I don't know."

She's not aggravated. But she's not laughing either. So I quickly retract. I quickly try losing my curiosity even though it just piqued even more.

"Yeah."

I feel her eyes on me and I realize I'm not the only one curious. I know she has some questions brewing. I know I just opened a free for all door and I can't look at her. Instead, I focus on her kissing tree.

"You're gay though, right?"

For some reason I laugh. It's not funny. I'm awkward. I'm uncomfortable. Half my wine disappears.

"Sorry...I didn't mean...I just..."

"It's ok..." The words come quickly, too quickly "...I mean I just asked you the same thing."

The air fills with heaviness. We're both feeling exposed now. We feel it even more with the breeze blowing over our skin. With the way the fire's the only sound we hear.

We both crossed a line and we're desperately trying to find our way back. But we're fumbling, we're stuck. We're not moving or talking. We're not finding it and the longer we can't find it, the more we drink. 

We're sipping our backwards steps.

I'm not sure if it's working, but I am feeling better. I'm feeling comfortable again. And by the way she giggles, I think Spencer is too.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing just..." She shakes her head. "...Aiden."

"What about him?"

"Well..."she's holding back her laughter now, ready to deadpan "...speaking of gay."

"Hey!" I swat at her arm and nearly miss it. "That's my sisters boyfriend!"

She laughs. "I know, I'm sorry, " but her words are barely recognizable.

"Spencer!"

Her head is now shaking, a futile attempt to stop laughing.

"He's not..." I try, but it's pointless, I start laughing too "...well maybe just a little."

Her eyes look into mine in a very "come on" way and that's all it takes, I lose it. "Ok...he's so gay."

And we both let go. I don't even think we're thinking about Aiden anymore. We're just laughing to laugh. Because it feels good. Because it feels right.

Because for once, nothing else matters.

And then something matters. Then her hand covers mine. It's something that happened naturally, an act without intentions. She let go too much, we laughed too hard, and in this moment, everything stopped.

Her hand stays on top of mine. Her hand really holds onto it. My thumb slides over her skin. I don't move. She doesn't either. The crickets chirp. The fire blazes life. Everything comes together again. The clear night sky. The stars inside it, shining down on us. Her kissing tree blows in the breeze, I can practically hear the leaves bumping into each other.

We're both looking at our linked hands on my arm rest. And then we're looking at each other. The silence between us isn't awkward. The space between us isn't uncomfortable. It's worse than that. It's comfortable. Everything about this moment feels right. Her hand on mine feels natural. And the fact it was a thoughtless act only proves it more.

For one moment everything makes sense. I feel it. She feels it. Everything is right. The world fits perfectly together. For one instant, our lives are harmoniously living together. The past and future has disappeared, leaving us with only now.

Leaving us with only each other.

And then it's gone. Her decreasing shadow is all I see. Her footsteps further inside ring in my ears. The breeze blows softer. The fire breathes warmer. The kissing tree looks fuller. The sky above shines brighter than before. I'm less isolated than before.

I blink.

Everything is different than it was before.

I shiver.

Everything.


	14. A Puddle

I am here.

Fumbling through screen doors. Tripping over living room couches. Sliding down hallway walls. I don't know what time it is, but I'm a few bottles down. I don't know what's filled the hours, but I'm happy.

I sat there in the front yard for who knows how long. Hands held in my isolated lap. Body isolated in my wooden chair. Isolated and happy; maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was so many other reasons, reasons that will never matter, because it happened. I don't need to know why.

My mind's foggy, but everything's so clear. All the stuff I've forgotten to see, feel, hear, along the way. The little things. The way a fire splinters warmth across you skin. The way the scorching pricks ignite life inside you. How gentle a breeze can be. The way it whispers across your skin and through your hair. Sprinkling your past, present, and future all around you. Through you. Reminding you of the good. Allowing you to forget the bad.

Sliding against our door before I expect to. Sluggish body falls against it, forehead rolls back and forth across the cool boards.

A deep breath.

Spencer. What happened between us. What she gave me. What it was, I'm still unsure, but I know it's good. I know it's the start of something. And just like that fire and breeze, it splinters life inside. It reminds.

But the bad, I haven't forgotten. I'll never forget.

My eyes flutter shut. This feels good. Too good. If I stay any longer, I'll wake up here. A small puddle left waiting. A small puddle waiting for permission to move. To spread, to fill. A puddle outside, waiting to pour inside.

Inside our room.

A deep breath.

Our room.

It hits me. It rattles my nerves. Not even those bottomless glasses from before can shake my anxiety. Anxiety over something I'm unsure of.

But it reminds me. I've felt this before. Inside blue walls, and beneath sky colored sheets. Moments of fidgeting music and carpet beneath my feet. Days when alcohol was a big enough blanket to mask the fear.

Days so long ago.

Suddenly I hear something behind the door. Behind the levee and beneath the blanket. I hear her coughing. I don't know if it means she's awake. If she hears me. If it's an invitation. But my hand finds it's way to the knob and turns.

I'm inside.

The breeze cools and the moon shines. I can see her curled form beneath the covers. An empty gleaming glass on the table before her, resting beside an open book. Her book. The one with laughing faces pressed between old pages. I recognize that book. I remember it sitting beside blue name tags and flowered walls. Days from my past.

Days so long ago.

I creep over to my bed, pretending feet too heavy on the wooden floor. Focused attempts at silence failing but I'm too drunk to notice. Too drunk to care. Too inside to realize failure and things gone wrong. To know of things that shouldn't be done.

My body sits on the edge of the bed. Back facing her, breeze facing me. The ocean washes over my warm skin. Heavy eyes watch the walls, watch the curtains dancing in mid air. See the way pictures partly shine through lines of light from the window.

She coughs again. I stay where I am. It's getting to the point where I know things will be lost. Exhaustion and inebriation forging together, mixing a forgetting formula. Creating a middle world between awake and sleep. A world where things will happen, where things will never be remembered. 

My jeans slide easily to the ground, a red sweatshirt meets it. I swivel around, lying down. Full body resting on top of a quilt. Full body exposed and cold. The air pushes through the window. The ocean knows. Knows I'm open and unguarded. A puddle waiting to fill. A space waiting to be filled.

The ocean tries to fill. The ocean tries to drown. The ocean wants me.

But it's not taking me. I'm here, I'm feeling it all. Every memory at once. All those laughing photos scattered on the floor. Every beautiful song colliding together. A life's past breezing over me. It's thick fingers claw, pull, and knead.

But it's too late, they can't have me and they can't take me. They missed their chance. They tried. They took a lot, they almost took it all. But they only wound up with half. Only.

I'm finding it again. I can feel it. The emptiness caving in. The half finding a whole. My missing side finding another.

It's starting, isn't it? A new half. A new life. It's unfolding on me. And not just cause life goes on, not just cause minutes turn into hours and days into months. But because of me. Because I'm letting it. Because I want it.

Because memories are happening. Moments are passing. And I'm saving them.

My walls crumble. Those walls rebuild. Pain hits me. Pain falls to the floor. Joy hits me. Joy hangs to the wall.

Joy starts to stick. 

There's no stopping it now. Cause minutes turn to hours. Days turn to months. And this time, life's not gonna move me on. I'm gonna move on with life.

My life.

Something stirs outside. Tires in the gravel. Heavy doors close. Voices fuse with the crickets chirping and the waves rumbling. There's muffled laughter. There's silenced shouting. Songs and cheers echo down the halls.

It begins. A new life. I hear it outside. I hear my little group. My new family mixed with the old. Blending together, becoming one. Cheering and laughing. Memory making.

And then something else echoes. Something not so muffled or silenced. Something close. So close. It's her. I think I hear her. I think.

No. I know.

She's crying and suddenly, suddenly, I hear it all so clear. Through the haze and fog. I hear fingers pressed against lips, against a nose. Shortened sniffs and quivering lips. Sharp, small, intakes of breath.

"Spence?"

Silence and muffled laughter.

"Yeah."

A croaky breaking voice. 

"You ok?"

Clanking glass beneath hurried sniffling. A rushed cover up.

"Yeah."

Minutes roll on. Eyes closed, still on my back. Fighting sleep. Fighting bottles down.

"Sure?"

Silence.

A warm breeze blows me a scent of shampoo. Her shampoo. The bed shifts, the bed sinks. Warmth sits beside me. Freshness fills the air. Her freshness.

Eyes opened meeting hers. Wet cheeks shimmer in the moon light. Swollen lips shake in it's shadow.

"Hey."

A hushed whisper inside my own voice. Hands going to either side, moving to push myself up. Her soft hand guides me back down. 

Silence.

Warmth tentatively fits with mine. A heavy arm slides around my waist. It's hand sneaks under my body. Fingers bunch a shirt, tips brush the skin beneath.

"Can I..." a trembling voice inside me ear.

Silence.

"...can I lay here..." heavy breath paints my cheek, a condensation memory I need to keep "...just a little while?"

A brushing nod. An arm for a pillow, protecting a sobbing face. Wrapping around a lonely girl.

The middle world's taking over. The world of missed clarity. I'm fighting to stay outside of it. Fighting to keep this life beside me. Fighting to feel it's chest rising and falling, labored breath breathing across me.

Timing with mine.

Our tears pool and legs tangle. Bodies together, above the covers. Above the blankets. Above it all. Warm and guarded. Safe and alive. A new life with a new life. Two missing halves filling. Not with each other, but something just as important.

My damp eyes close.

I am here, spreading and moving inside.

A small puddle filling.

Next to her.

An empty space filled.


	15. The Grey

Morning birds chirp over forgotten crickets. The warm sun overlaps the crisp moon, a new kind of light flowing through open windows. Slowly my heavy eyes adjust to the brightness, to the warmth filling me inside.

Something's different.

Rolling over, my hand slides, spreading across crisp sheets.

Something's missing.

I squint into the pillow, fingers draw over cotton. I remember.

Spencer.

Hand fumbles down, splaying beneath the blanket.

She's gone.

Falling back against the mattress again, awake eyes stare into the ceiling. 

Was she ever really here?

Fingers come to my lips, tracing. Arms hug my body, ghosting hers.

Or did she run away? Did she leave me before I got too close. 

Again.

Breakfast makes it's way to my bed, and manages to pull me out of it. I shuffle down the bright halls, each step reminding me of every glass from hours before. The hours that are quickly catching up with me. The ones of routine sipping by the fire. Getting lost inside a filled glass.

And I smile. Through the hangover, through the heaviness, I remember.

A kissing tree paired with new hands holding.

The kitchen cheerfully greets me, along with the sun. The vision of Kyla's bare feet swaying on a table filters through the screen door. I see them in slow motion. I hear them out there. I hear them far away. Smiling voices and easy laughter.

And then it's so close. It's next to me, inside me. Warms me and reminds.

Bacon and eggs surround the air and I see a plate waiting. A plate laid out for me. Standing in the light, I stare at it shining on the counter. Taking it in. Everything it means. What it means to me.

I'm apart of this. Smiling voices and easy laughter. I'm inside it.

"Ashley, get your lazy ass out here!"

Anthony's voice makes sure I know it, that I believe it. And I do. I don't waste a second in listening to him. Grabbing my plate and water, I find my way outside.

A chorus of hello's greet me and I smile.

Kyla and Aiden are sitting at the round table, partially beneath the awning, partially beneath the bright sun. Bodies slouched in their chairs, magnetically leaning inwards. Their heads tilted back, falling towards each other. Sunglasses cover their hurting eyes. Kyla gives me a smirk, and I know just what it means.

They're feeling it.

Anthony, without a shirt, stands out in the yard. Swallowed in the middle of green grass. With hands tied behind his head, he wears a beautiful smile. Facing the sun, he's drinking it in. This moment, this everything. An eye quarks open, peeking towards me.

"Finally." A smiled whisper flies from him to me and I wrap my fingers around it.

I'm inside.

And then I see her. Spencer. She's sitting in a beach chair, blue and white stripes pressed to her back. Perfectly sat between the kissing tree and Anthony. Soaking in the sun, hands calmly fidget across her stomach, across her book. Across her blanket. A light smile fills her lips, her hair whisks softly in the breeze. Her eyes squint forward. Her lips lift.

Her eyes look into mine. Her smile pushes inside.

"Hey." It's soft and meant for her. It's the first thing I've said all morning. She's the only person I've wanted to hear it.

She's the only one I've needed to hear me.

We hold our stare, conversation picks up around us. Kyla and Aiden reliving the night before. Anthony joining in with every period of silence between them.

But Spencer and I stay where we are, keeping with each other. And I remember.

Warmth pressed beside me. Tears flowing together. Arms working as pillows, legs acting as blankets. It happened. And maybe she did leave before I could pull her back. Maybe she did run away.

But she's not now. She's here, before me. And in her smile, I feel her warmth and slick tears. I feel her. I see her.

She's inside.

Sunglasses drift down over her eyes but the smile never leaves her face. Finally joining the table, I set my plate down. But I'm too moved to touch it. Too inside to twirl the food around my fork. I don't want to.

And I don't need to.

"Seriously, Ash, you missed out last night."

Kyla giggles her words as an instinctive hand finds Aiden's.

"Yeah Ash-ey..." Aiden slurs my name, like he always does, "...this place was off the hook!"

Laughter pours from my lips, and I smile at them.

"Damn right it was..." Anthony walks towards us, lightly kicking Spencers chair along the way, she grins, he smirks. They're inside. They share their own moment, their own world. And then Anthony joins us in ours, standing behind me "...I hope you're getting ready for round two tonight."

Eyes roll, tired sighs follow, and I'm the only one clueless,"...tonight?"

"Yeah..." I can see Kyla cringing beneath the darkness of her shades, "...I guess we invited half the bar over for a barbecue tonight." She turns apologetic, "...sorry.." squeezing between her smiling teeth.

"Oh please, I was about to invite them myself..." Anthony holds my shoulders, and I like it. "...I gotta say Ashley, these two were out of control last night, I think they're my kind of people."

I hear Spencers laughter behind us. I like it even more.

"I bet." Mirroring Kyla's grin, I tilt my head back and mirror Anthonys.

Padded footsteps make their way towards us, as a scratchy but delicate voice sings inside my ears.

"Tonight should be fun..." Spencer completes our round table world, our round two moment, with hands on her hips. Even with her eyes hiding, I know exactly where they're looking.

They're connecting with mine. And I hold them. I keep them. I store them inside that dusty safe.

A whispered "yeah" leaves my lips, with a twinge of excitement.

She returns it. She holds me too. She doesn't let me go. The world between this table fades away, leaving just the two of us. And then she pulls us back inside it, glancing over at the linked couple, "You guys ready?" 

"Definitely." Kyla stands with a grunt, pulling an equally lethargic Aiden with her.

"Where you going?" I look at Kyla, directing my question towards her, even though I really want Spencers answer.

"Well since we invited their friends over, we thought it was only fair we bought the supplies for tonight." Kyla widely smiles and I know she's happy to do it.

"Oh guys stop being ridiculous –"

"Spencer, we insist." Kyla and Aiden say in unison. The appropriate amount of silence fills the space till Spencer easily nods. Until Spencer accepts their help.

Until she lets them inside.

"Don't worry about the booze, Ash and I will make that trip later, won't we?" Anthony throws me a mischievous smile as he slides into Aiden's seat.

Shaking my head and baring my teeth, I laugh, "You're crazy."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, babe."

He winks at me.

I'm inside.

We say our goodbyes, as they bumble their way to the car. One last look from Spencer, full of meaning. Full of things I'm still unsure of.

And they're gone.

"Looks like it's just me and you, kid."

Glancing over, Anthony's white smile shines on me. Hair a mess. Face flushed. Eyes tired. He's never looked better.

"Come on."

His head swings to the side, in a very familiar way, and it stops me for a moment. It tries to pull me down a dark path belonging to the past. But a hand from the present fights it. Anthony's fingers thread through mine, and we're walking.

We're walking away from the darkness into the light.

"So where we going?"

Dust clouds below our flip flops. Sand crunches beneath our weight.

"Just my favorite place on this little island..." his hand leaves mine so an arm can wrap around my shoulders "...I think you'll like it."

I only nod, keeping my head low, the corners of my mouth turning up with every step. We don't speak as we walk down nameless streets. The sun shines on us, painting his bare skin, warming mine beneath a tank top.

Honeysuckle fills the air. Children dance and giggle. Summer is everywhere. Summer wraps around us. The streets become smaller, the grass grows over the edges. There's more sand. Less houses.

Civilization seems further and further away.

And then I see it. The ocean. It's right in front of my eyes. Breathing and spitting. Waving hello. Practically whispering "it's been awhile" in a condescending cackling tone.

"We're here."

I watch Anthony walk before me, from the pavement onto the path between the dunes. His arms outstretched, face to the sky. Finally, I move towards him, each step slower and heavier than the one before it. Like I'm waking through the thickest mud. Like I'm walking through the hungriest quicksand.

Like this beach is literally eating me whole.

The sand is hot, the waves are loud. Anthony breathes deep. I suffocate. He doesn't even notice when I trip next to him.

"Best thing about living on an island..." I hear him inhaling through his nose, savoring it "...there's a beach for everyone. Welcome to Cliff beach...my beach."

The tears cover my eyes. Blanketing. Knees shaking, hands clenching. My past is winning. My past ain't going anywhere this time.

"Hey..." a soft hand grabs onto mine, and I close my eyes with it. I suck in the air. My lips sputter alongside my quivering chin.

"Fuck."

It's breathy, spitting from my rattling lips. I squeeze my eyes. I clasp them shut. Too afraid to look. The blanket is so tight over my face. 

If I can't see them, the monsters can't see me.

"You can do this." I hear him whisper, I feel him holding me tighter.

"I don't know." My head starts shaking "... I don't think I can-"

"Yes you can. I'm here. You're here..." A thumb rubs over me "...Nothing bad has happened. You've already gone through the worst of it Ashley. You got through it, and you're ok."

We're silent for so long. We don't move. I'm afraid to open my eyes. I'm afraid to see the sand swallowing me. Afraid to see the dirty suffocating mud all over my skin.

I don't want to see the past. I don't want to find it choking my life between it's greedy fingers.

I take one final deep breath. One deep breath, and my eyes open. One deep breath and I'm ok.

"Come on..." Anthony whispers, Anthony coaxes. He holds me close as we walk further along the beach, where the sand becomes cooler. Harder. My other hand unconsciously grabs onto his arm, keeping him with me. Holding him near. And as we sit together, I don't know if I'll ever let him go.

His arm rests around my shoulders like he knows I need them. He knows how badly I need to be inside.

The tears flow like a river from my eyes. Just dropping to the sand. Dropping so hard. Tricking the grains into believing it's the choppy salt water rumbling over it.

Anthony's hand soothes as he keeps me close. We stay like that, for I don't know how long. Just us and this beach. There's no one else. There's no noise. Just the waves. Just my soft sobs. Just my hurried breaths. Just Anthony. Just him there. He doesn't say anything but I still hear him. I feel him. I'm safe.

Finally I'm ready. Ready to stop the tears. Ready to move on. Ready to attempt both. I wipe my eyes using the back of my hands.

"Sorry."

It's whispered and pushed. I don't know why I said it, I'm not sorry.

"For what?" Anthony knows "...for having emotions? For showing them?"

Just for hearing his voice, a light chuckle fights my tears.

He dramatically sighs, feigning disbelief. "Thank god you're apologizing for that."

Another laugh pushes the tears down. I can tell he's smiling. Holding my face in my hands, I turn towards him.

"Thanks."

"No worries..." He leans in close, eyes looking straight into my weepy ones "...Just don't go doing it again, got it?"

A laugh gives him my answer. I sniffle. He affectionately smiles and moves back, resting his weight on hands in the sand. My breathing calms, my eyes dry. Things go back as they were. The past crawls back beneath my bed. The past's done scaring me for today.

For now.

"So..." his voice invites me his way and I find him squinting out over the ocean "...wanna talk about it?"

Hesitating, I face forward again. I'm hanging over my bed, peeking under it, eyes wide staring into the darkness. I'm scared. I don't want to reach under there. I don't want to pull out the things that just crawled away from me. But I'm thinking about it. I'm considering it.

And I make a decision.

"Have you ever..."

I inhale sharply, hands dig through the sand, hands reach into the dark. I'm kneeling under that safe mattress. I'm moving now. I'm frantically fumbling across the boards. I'm terrified. I'm ready.

"Have you ever known someone, someone close to you, who was out of control..." My eyes cast down the beach, behind his face, his concerned and curious eyes "...but you didn't do anything about it?"

"How do you mean out of control?"

I don't know how to answer. I've never had to say it out loud. The words are too scary. Too real. Suddenly it's just too dark.

He leans back again, and I think I feel him. I think I feel him next to me beneath the bed. I'm starting to wonder if he's fumbling through his own darkness. I'm starting to believe he is.

He takes a deep breath.

"Growing up, my father, my real one, was an alcoholic."

He's got me now, my eyes are on him, I'm ready to listen. But he's looking at his legs stretched out before him. He's in his own world now.

"He was a mean drunk. Like really bad. Night after night he'd pound on my mom..." he's afraid to say it "...pound on my brother and me. The fun nights..." A sarcastic chuckle falls from his lips "...The really good ones were when he was strung out too. The nights he ran out of blow. Those were the nights the cops came. Those were the ones mom would wake up with swollen eyes and a dried bloody nose." His eyes become far away, and I know they're not looking in on snow days.

"The bruises on my back lasted weeks after those nights."

He bites his lip. He coughs. He fidgets. He's trapped inside black. He's living inside it. I grab his hand.

"I cried the nights he didn't come home. Because I knew we were safe. I knew we were going to survive. Tomorrow would come. I was seven and that's what I dealt with. Other kids cried about the toy they didn't get for Christmas. I cried cause I was alive. I cried cause mom made it through another night. Seven years old and I wanted to save my mother. "

A long, meaningful pause.

"Seven years old and I wished I didn't have a father."

The words are heavy. The words are beyond my comprehension.

"I begged my mom, both my brother and I, we begged her to leave him. We just couldn't understand how she never listened. We couldn't understand why she wouldn't leave. I didn't understand that she was terrified. You know? Things are so simple when you're little. So cut and dry. Black and white. You don't see the grey till later. Till you're older. When life becomes complicated. When life becomes life."

His voice is shaky, his breath trembles.

"One day mom remembered the black and white. The cut and dry. She saw it, thank god, and saved us. She left him. A few years later she married David. He's a great guy, an amazing guy. He's the guy I started calling dad. He's the man who became my father."

I find his smile again.

"That's when life changed. We started coming out here. They started having kids of their own. That's when we had a real family. The days of survival were over. We started simply living. And finally I could breathe. Finally, I could sleep at night."

The heaviness dissolves slightly. Silence lingers, until he finally speaks again.

"So yeah, I've known people like that. And I've known the people who don't do anything about it."

Suddenly I feel guilty, I feel awful. I'm the person who didn't do anything about it.

"But those people...the terrified ones who only see the gray. I understand them." His face scrunches from looking into the sun "...because I've seen the grey."

His words allude to more, but his tone suggests he's not ready to share it. So I lightly smile at him.

"I've seen the grey."

The words leave my mouth before I can pull them back inside it. My brain thought and acted without including me. I know it's a sign. I know it's my mind telling me it's ready to talk. It's ready to get it all out.

It needs it. And so do I. Looking at Anthony, I see he's ready too.

"She was everything. Like everything. My best friend, family, girlfriend..." my voice is already choking, my eyes are already wet "...I loved her so much. God...so much." I can taste the tears on my lips.

"Shawn?"

I turn my weary eyes towards him, giving my answer with a quick nod. He holds my hand, letting me know I'm not alone. Letting me know he's right by my side. That we're crawling across dusty floors together.

"Things with us had always been perfect. She was perfect..." A shiver shakes my bones "...At least she always seemed it. I remember the exact day I realized they weren't, that she wasn't...perfect."

The tears slow me down the faster they fall.

"It was about seven months ago, the last time I went to the beach. She had been out all night. I hadn't heard from her. I didn't know where she was. And the worst part, what really kills me now? I wasn't worried..." I hiccup "...because that's just how things were. That's how they went. By the end..."

It's getting too scary. There are too many monsters. I need a pause. I need a break. Anthony squeezes my hand. He gives me what I need.

"By the end I hardly spent a night with her."

I sigh. I sigh with my life.

"I kind of knew what she was doing...but I didn't. I didn't want to know. I didn't want to see. But on that morning, I couldn't turn away from what was so bluntly before my eyes."

A thumb swipes away pools of tears from my face.

"It was early, really early, the sun had just risen. She called me. I wasn't expecting it. She never called. I remember how my heart dropped when the phone vibrated. I remember thinking 'this is it...this is really it. She's...gone.'

Cruel laughter slips between my lips. Laughter belonging to someone else.

"You'd think after hearing her voice, I'd be smart enough to learn from it. Learn from my fear. That moment where I thought she was gone...you'd think I'd care enough to make sure I never had to experience it again. I'd make sure to never lose her."

My head shakes quickly. I can't even think about that anymore. I can't get lost in the "what if's" and "if onlys". At least I'm smart enough now to know it's too late for that.

"She was on the beach, our beach right down the road. Her voice was so far away. I couldn't find her in it, you know? She was talking about things I couldn't understand and I didn't wait to find out their meaning. I got in my car and drove to her. My dropped heart from before, broke when I found her. When I saw her right in the middle of the sand, wrapped in her quilt, just lying there."

I'm shaking. I don't know why. The sun is so hot on my sweaty skin and I'm shaking so hard.

"I didn't run to her, I didn't scream, or shout. I just walked. I walked so slowly, like if I dragged it out, it wasn't real. If I took my time she'd disappear. I'd disappear."

"She didn't even move when I stood above her. Her eyes were wide awake, and she didn't even look at me. I laid down beside her, and looked into her lost eyes. I looked so hard, hoping I could find her. But all I found was her twitching jaw. It was my first clue. It was the way I always knew she was high. She was good at covering it up. She was almost perfect at it."

I glance down the beach.

"But she wasn't good enough and she definitely wasn't perfect. I took one look at that grinding jaw, and I knew she had partied."

I laugh. It's not light. It's not funny. It's instinct.

"I'm not a saint, you know, I'm not one of those 'hugs over drugs' people. It happens. People do it. But with her...with her it was different. She was living off them, you know? People were going to work. People were starting their day. And she was still living through the previous one. She was still looking for another line."

My breath comes faster.

"And that morning on the beach, she wasn't looking for one. She was on something entirely different. She was so strung out. I just laid there with her. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't move her but...I think part of me just didn't want to see it. I didn't want to make it real. And when you're dragging your girlfriend through the sand to the car, you can't avoid it. You can't ignore it. When it comes to that, reality is singing loud and out of tune right in your ear."

I close my eyes. I hold the silence for a moment. I brace myself to finish.

"But somehow...I did ignore it. Eventually we got off that beach. Eventually we went back to normal. And one week later..."

I open my eyes regretfully. Focusing on the sand between my legs, eying each grain, before I turn to Anthony.

"...exactly one week later, she was dead."

Anthony doesn't even wait a second before he draws me between his arms. I'm already weeping, blubbering against his hot skin. I'm harshly rubbing my eyes. My mouth stutters incoherent "sorry"s. He holds me so tight. He lets me weep. He lets me brand my tears into him. He holds the puddle I've become and he keeps it safe. He keeps it together.

He pools it between his safe arms. He holds me inside.

When my sobs subside, when my breath catches up with me, I feel him stroking my hair. I hear him whispering "it's ok." And I pull away, wiping my eyes.

"It's not ok..." a shaky breath "...it's...it's my fault."

His eyes widen.

"You can't believe that, Ashley."

"Yes I can. I can because it's true." I can't even look at him now. I can't face the reality, the truth. I don't want him to see the real me. The girl inside her own prison with hands fruitlessly reaching out between the cool bars.

"It's not true. It's not your fault. You were only seeing the grey."

I shake my head sadly, looking up to the sky "Oh great, the grey. The people who let others hurt themselves. Hurt other people. Yeah, I'm so proud."

"Oh don't give me that 'woe is me' bullshit."

My face shoots towards him, wide eyed and disbelieving, "what?"

"Don't' give me that cop out, ok? Don't run and beat yourself down into nothing. Especially when you don't get it, the grey, and you don't get it...do you?"

The silence flowing from my open mouth gives both of us my answer. He breathes deep. He searches out over the water, building his answer, finding the exact words.

"Grey is human, Ashley. It's compassion. It's sensitivity and understanding. It's love."

"Grey is making mistakes..." His hand squeezes my shoulder, his hand forces me to look at him "...and forgiving yourself for them." He looks into my eyes, really looks into them, he's not fucking around anymore. He's speaking from experience, and I'm finally listening

"Grey is life, Ashley, it's living. And not only should you live and breathe gray, you should feel fucking lucky to do it."

Everything hits me at once. Everything. Anthony's words. His life. What he's said and done. I'm feeling it. I'm believing it. I'm living it.

Those monsters under my bed. The monsters I've confronted. The ones I've beat down. I've opened them up. I've exposed them. And I can breathe. I can breathe so much easier.

Cause that's the thing about facing your demons. About peeking under your bed. When you hold your breath, shaking and shivering, you finally open your eyes. You finally look into the darkness. And you find nothing.

You're not scared. You're safe. You've survived it. You can sleep. Finally, you can close your eyes because you did it. Because you looked.

Because you're ok. And you finally realize it.

We sit there, side against side, hand holding hand. I rest my tired head on his shoulder. I let the salt water breathe over me. I accept it. I want it. I embrace it. Time passes, waves crash, and we're still here. 

We're ok.

"What do you say..." Anthony's smooth voice draws me out of it, draws me into now, "...I finally show you around this place huh? Give ya the old island tour?"

I slowly face him, wearing the most appreciative smile I can muster, "I'd like that."

"That's what I'm talking about..." He stands, offering a hand to help me up "...I assure you Miss Davies, you are in excellent, safe hands."

Standing up, keeping his hand in mine, I seriously look at him. "Yeah...I am."

We hold onto the moment, eyes holding onto each other. I make sure he knows how much meaning sits inside my words. I make sure he knows what he's done for me. I make sure he knows that he'll never fully understand just how much he's done.

"Thank you Anthony."

And then I really make sure. I say the only thing left, the last and only thing I can give him.

He smiles. Really smiles. "Anytime, Ashley, anytime."

The moment washes over us. This moment that will live on because it's changed us. Because we both got inside, and because we'll never leave it.

We walk together, in our usual position, his arm wrapped around my shoulders, mine around his waist. The sun shines brighter on us. The sun warms our hot skin.

I smile as we reach the pavement. Our steps fall in time with each other.

"Ok I have to say something, it's probably offensive and you might hate me, but I'm sorry, I just can't keep this in anymore..."

His serious eyes turn towards me "Aiden?" a long beat, preparing me for what I already know is to come "...so gay."

I laugh. I laugh so loud.

"I mean, like really gay."

My laughter stops us from walking. I can't stop it and he joins in. We're hunched over. Hands on our knees, letting it all out. We're exhaling the heavy from our past, inhaling the lightness of now.

I laugh harder. I smile wider when it reminds me. When I think of last night. Of Spencer. Of everything. When I think about my life. The fact good things do happen. They are happening. The fact I'm with even better people. Really good people. People I want to know better. People who want to know me. People who like me.

I'm living grey.

And right there, under the Nantucket sun with Anthony by my side.

I'm loving it.


	16. The Push, The Pull

Today was a marathon. My marathon. I ran like I never have before. Barefoot and terrified. That beach, my course, my track, it stretched me to my limits. It rung me out. Limb by limb, it bent me back, tied my legs, choked my hands. Breathless and spent, I watched the finish line approaching. I could taste it in my restless, watering mouth. I was right there, finger tips reaching towards ribbon. And while it feels like I barreled through it, while I wish I had. I know that's still to come. I know there are more legs to this marathon.

I know there's more running. More wearing, tearing, and unwinding.

But tonight, on this crisp and fresh night, I'm taking my time. I'm bent over, slippery hands holding wobbly knees, glancing up at the life saving sun. Feeling every inch of it on my sweaty back. 

Tonight is catching your breath. Tonight is collapsing and spreading across the floor. Laying your flat body out, feeling so spent.

And never feeling better.

Tonight has wound me together again. A rubber band snapped in slow motion. A yo yo flying in reverse, rolling inside home.

Tonight is relief. Burden falling from breaking shoulders, like bricks crumbling. I've felt each one turn to dust. I've watched each one dance through the air. I can feel a broken frame sitting inside me. I feel more cement waiting to powder. The frame waiting to dissolve away. It is dissolving. Turning into a ghost I'll always feel but never see.

Tonight, I'm not feeling it, though. Tonight I'm not looking for ghosts, and I'm not hiding from them either.

Tonight is about enjoying the view. Standing back and taking in everything before me, like I used to. Seeing through the shadows of those same eyes. Right now, in this moment, those changed eyes admire how far I've come.

Proving just how changed they are. Proving just how far I've come.

New faces have smiled across our lawn, eager warm hands extended into mine. Polite "hello"'s and "how are you"'s exchanged. Polite turned comfortable turned real. Conversations grew and grew until they eventually breathed on their own. Bottles sipped, more and more drinks spilled.

I haven't drank that much. I haven't talked that much. I've observed. I've taken in. Kyla and Anthony smoking their cigarettes, truly becoming the butt buddies they so wittingly coined themselves earlier. I've watched them giggle, no doubt causing mischief in the shadows of this party.

I've watched it all right here, slouched in what is now my chair, designated as mine solely cause I've sat nowhere else. Everyone's learned. They've seen. They know to leave it for me. So here I sit, in _my_ chair, planted right in front of the fire. The fire that will forever remind me of Spencer. Letting those same pricks of light ignite me. Remind me even more with each one. Gentle eyes seeping further inside with each flick and flame.

And then those gentle eyes are on me. I see her through the orange, Through the radiating heat. Out there in the grass, talking to Trevor with his cherub and child like face. Dark curls dangling over his bright and energetic eyes. I watch him engage Spencer best he can. Hands painting his words, cradling and cutting through the air.

But she's not listening. She hasn't been for a while now. We've been peeking looks. She's held them longer and longer. I think it's the wine glass in her hand.

She looks away first this time, but I don't leave with her. And she knows it. She knows she's left me behind. She comes back for me.

She smirks.

I smirk back.

"Hey you."

Kyla pulls me away this time. A chair scooting closer. Spencer's chair, but it's ok.

"...'nother beer?" She holds out a blanket, a way out, a cover up.

Tonight, I don't want one.

"Nah...I'm ok."

She looks over me and easily smiles, something dawning on her, "You are, aren't you?"

I glance down, a moment, a beat, before I return to her. With a small smile and nod.

"Good." Whispers inside the bottled beer meeting her lips.

We both sigh in relief. I think we're both doing it for me. The barbeque swirls around us. But through it all, I still hear Anthony. I smile as I see him exclaiming something to Aiden. Clueless and naïve Aiden.

"How's Aiden?"

She looks over towards the pair, a grin living on her lips, I think she knows what we've all suspected. Typical Kyla doesn't care. She never has.

"He's fun."

"Yeah?..." My eyebrows rise, sarcasm oozing from my mouth "... could he possibly be the the one that's gonna settle you down?"

"A..." Her eyes roll over towards me, "...no."

A heavy silent beat.

"Yeah, didn't think so."

We laugh down both our beers together. The empty bottle rests between my hands. I squeeze it once. I place it on the ground between us.

"And Spencer?"

Now it's my turn to roll my eyes. 

"What..." Kyla laughs through her words in her own comforting way, "...I'm just asking how she is!"

"Uh huh" My head slants, mouth opened, jaw clenching it in place. 

"All I'm saying is I like her, is that such a crime?"

She shrugs her shoulders feigning innocence while my eyes crawl back to Spencer.

"No..." smiling wider "...no it's not."

I glance back over to Kyla. She's dressed in victory, winning a battle she never needed to fight. And she knows it.

"Hey."

A calm voice draws me from Kyla. Glancing up, I find Spencers happy face standing above me, a crooked smirk filing her lips halfway.

"Hey" gently leaves my lips.

Spencer looks at us amused, "Having fun over here?"

"Too much." Kyla giggles into her bottle.

"Seriously," eyes widened, playful teasing filling my voice "...how many of those have you had?"

"Who knows, I stopped counting..." she squints in serious serious thought "...actually that's a lie, I never started counting in the first place."

Kyla rumbles with laughter, finding her own joke far too funny. Spencer joins in too, laughing far too much. And I realize I'm the only sober one in this trio. Happily wedged between drunk and drunker.

I'm still not sure which is which.

I decide now is a good time to really look at Spencer. Now's a time I can get away with it. I tilt my head back, finding her lazily smiling at us both. She's relaxed. Very relaxed. She's in cruise control, letting the wine do the driving. It's perched on her shoulder telling her to do all she wouldn't normally. Like the hand she has wrapped around the back of my chair. Like the way I can feel her fingers fidgeting ever so slightly against my back. Just the faintest touch. Like linked pinkies. A dangling line, letting me know she's there. Letting me know she might be waiting for me to bite.

No one's saying anything. No one's doing anything. No one but Spencer and those teasing fingers. Whispering against me in the same way as before, but I feel it even more now.

I so feel it.

And then Kyla gets the gist. Kyla senses the dangling line between us. Senses things unfolding that exclude her.

"Well I'm just gonna..." Quickly jumping to her feet, she fumbles, tripping over herself and she giggles, she giggles a lot "...yeah...I'm just gonna go over here."

There aren't even words for Kyla's exit, it speaks for itself, so I let it do the talking. I let it carry that situation away from us with every sloppy step she makes. I just shake my head as she stumbles over towards the boys. 

"Finally!" Spencer exclaims, plopping down in _her_ chair, inching it closer to _my_ chair at the same time. "I've been eying this baby all night."

She smiles over at me, a new found shyness forming over her face, like the pink beneath the tan on her cheeks.

We're both quiet. Casually looking at one another, trying so hard to not look too long. But she eventually stays long. She keeps with me. She links hands with my eyes. A soft "hi" barely pours through her open smile.

I hold her gaze, whispering "hi" right back at her.

Silence lingers on until we both giggle. We both shyly shake our heads, because we've just entered a new world. And we both know it. We're twirling our fingers, we're occupied with the fire, we're busying ourselves. Because this new world, it's intimate. It's full of hidden meaning.

Secret meaning found in everything. Found between two letters of a simple greeting.

"I feel like I haven't talked to you all night."

"That's because you haven't."

"Good point."

Holding my eyes once again, she searches for the right words. Searching for her next move, because whatever this is, it's not conversation anymore. This is a game. This is chess. Suddenly we're contemplating and strategizing. Each word means something. Each word brings us closer to something we're unsure of.

Each word is stepping over foreign lines and terrifying me. I don't know how to play this game. I don't know the rules. I have no clue how to win. I don't even know if there's supposed to be a winner.

But maybe that's the point. Maybe we're just playing to play. Maybe we're only moving to see where we're going.

"So Ashley..." Eyes crawling over a wine glass bottom, she sips through a sly smirk "...are you enjoying your night?"

Something ignites in my stomach. Something heavy and confused. I don't know what's going on right now, and what's even more scary; I think I like it.

"Definitely..." Biting my lip, I go for a safe route "...you?"

"I am..." Wine swirling below a lingering look, "...now."

Spencer should have said 'check mate' because whatever game this is, I'm pretty sure she just won. I'm a blubbering mess. I'm coughing into a tight fist. Eyes flicking over the fire before us. I'm laughing. I'm laughing deep from inside my chest.

I'm nervous, I'm unsure. I'm doing anything to make it look like nothing. I'm icing over burnt cakes and throwing rugs over dirty laundry.

Except, I don't even know what I'm covering up.

Spencer isn't moving to blanket anything. She's not laughing, she's just smiling. She's so comfortable. She's so in her element. She's too inside her element. She's drunk, and I'm not.

We're both outside of our elements here.

I tilt my head back. Staring at the stars as a moan with a mind of its own pushes out of me. A moan that says "what are you doing".

Thinking it over, I decide to make that move. I'm seconds away from joining this game, ready to throw out the obvious question. Ready to throw off the cover up and just get it out there. I started running in the right direction this morning, why not keep doing it. Why not take the risk, why not run another leg.

"Spence..." slowly turning towards her, "what are we - "

"Cabs here!" 

Anthony's voice stops the risk. Anthony's voice tackles me to the ground. I watch everyone flock towards the van in the driveway.

The game's over. For now, the game's sitting on pause. This is half time. And as the cab honks behind me, cutting through our silence, I only realize it more.

"Just so you two know..." Anthony strides towards us, with Kyla and Aiden closely behind "...you're off the hook for tonight, but you're coming out with us tomorrow."

Kyla grunts with an exasperated "tomorrow?"

"Stop whining Davies, you love it." Anthony throws her a wink, before wrapping me in his arms. Kyla's chuckled "yeah I do" fades into the background, as he holds onto me. As he holds me like he holds Spencer. I can feel the fun Anthony taking a backseat as beach Anthony takes the wheel. As beach Anthony says thank you. He says it so clearly, so seriously. He says it like he means it.

He pulls away, and I see it. I see him holding my cards. I see them held closely inside his chest. Just like Spencer's, he'll protect them. Protect me. And when I need him to, he'll bluff. He'll bluff through long division. Bluffing till he figures it out.

And as he hugs Spencer, I realize I'm holding his cards too. I'm storing them inside that locked safe, where no one can touch them. I'm protecting them. Protecting him. I always will.

One last hug from Kyla, one "I love you sis" whispered in my ear, and they're gone.

It's just Spencer and me now. Standing above our chairs. Inching back towards that checkered board we left moments before. I can't remember where the pieces were. I can't remember where we left off. Judging from Spencer's stiff body, I don't think she knows either.

She glances over towards me, I glance over towards her.

"So..." whispers so quietly from her lips. The word dangles out there just like her hands on the back of my chair.

Tying my fingers like sneakers tightly laced to the top, I'm still not biting her bait.

"...so..."

I'm still too afraid. I'm still wondering if there really is a line waiting for me.

"Just us again, huh?"

"Yup..." One awkward chuckle "...just us."

She's clearing her throat. But it sounds more like we're getting back into our game.

"So, you had a good day with Ant?"

Safe ground.

"Yeah..." I smile thinking back on our liquor store adventure, the ease between us, the endorphins that ran through my body. "...yeah I did."

"What'd you guys do?"

"Not that much..." I shrug with possibly the biggest lie of my life, but I'm not ready to share those intimate details. This conversation that's not really a conversation isn't the place for them. This game we're playing shouldn't involve showing cards. This game shouldn't involve my cards at all.

So I try to act casual. I look over towards the kissing tree. I look and form the words for a lying truth

"...We hung out, you know, he showed me some of the island and...just..." my voice softens, "...went to the beach."

I try to say it so casually, so normally. But you can't fake normal. And you can't hide a marathon.

"Oh yeah? What'd you do there?"

Spencer knows. She sees something brewing beneath. She's curious. She's asking. And I'm getting nervous.

"Nothing, just..." I pick at my jeans, "...talked."

"What about?"

I sigh, wishing we were back inside the game with wooden pieces, where things didn't matter. But we're not there and these pieces are real. So real. These pieces are my life, my cards, and Spencers pushing them together. She's weaving through the ones that don't matter, getting closer to all the ones that do. She's getting closer to everything.

"Nothing."

With one word, I close her off. Whatever we had all night, whatever we worked towards, it's gone now. We're back to twirling food and gripping things between our hands.

Except I have nothing to hold onto this time. Except I can't hide beneath my liquor. This time, things are out in the open.

I'm too scared to look at her. I don't know why. It only scares me more. I can hear her breathing, I can hear her fidgeting. The silence is becoming too loud. My fear is becoming too much.

I look at her. She's looking at me. Her face is unreadable. Her face almost looks sad.

"I'm sorry." I'm trying to get us back there. I want to be back inside that other world.

But she doesn't say anything. She's not budging. So I keep trying.

"I just-"

"Forget it"

I have to work harder. I take a time out, inhaling a deep breath, I jump back in.

"Spencer..." It's my turn to throw out a line for her. It's my turn to try and get her to bite. I need her to, I need her to accept my invitation because the only thing I'm scared of now is her running away. And I know it's only a matter of minutes till she does. I can see it in her guarded eyes. I can see it in her arms crossed over her chest.

"Nah, it's fine..." her sweatshirt covered hand pats the wooden arm twice, before she stands, "...I'm pretty tired so I'm just gonna go to bed."

She's gone before I even realize it. She's gone and I'm still here. In my chair that doesn't feel like mine anymore. The fire is dying out, literally, symbolically. Once again I'm alone. I'm so alone.

I don't want to be. I don't want to be outside anymore. I'm tired of it. I don't want her to run away. I don't want it to be my fault.

And for once, I'm going to do something about it.

I'm up on my sober feet in no time, going to her. I don't even know what I'm going to say. I don't even know what I'm running towards, but I'm gonna do it. This is another leg to my marathon. This might be harder than the beach. This might take more out of me.

But then again, this might feel better.

I stand before our door, just like last night. I brace myself, just like last night. But I know this is nothing like last night.

One deep breath, and I walk inside. The lights are out. Her bed is full. And she's not even acknowledging my scared feet creaking across the floor. I sit on the inside of my bed, watching her beneath the covers. Seeing the way her body rises and falls. I can tell she's out of breath.

"Spencer..."

Nothing.

A deep breath pushes out of my lips, "You're really not gonna talk to me?"

She laughs defensively "I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm sorry, ok?"

Nothing.

"It's so easy for you to shut me out, isn't it?"

Silence.

"Jesus, Spencer, you walk away from me so easily. You always do. And that's why I can't open up. That's why I close myself off."

It stays so still for a moment, before she rolls over. "What are you talking about?"

My feet drag me in directions I don't recognize. They're moving me through places I never knew of. These roads are dark and scary. But somehow I keep running. Somehow I know just where to trudge next.

"All you do is shut me out Spencer, whenever I get too close you back away. It scares me. I want to talk to you. I want to tell you things. I want to tell you everything. But I'm afraid."

More silence. 

"Why?"

"Because..." It's a step forward, but I need a step back. I'm not so sure about these roads. I'm not so sure I trust these guiding feet anymore. These feet that are so tired. This body that's stretched too thin. I'm not sure I can keep running this race. I'm not so sure I want to keep playing this game.

Closing my eyes, I think I might just throw in the towel for the day. Lying down on my bed, I'm ready to blow the whistle on it.

"...I don't know, Spence...I don't know."

And like that I give up. I give in. It's over. I'm spent and I'm done. I don't know where I was going before, but I know I can't do it. I know I don't have that fight in me tonight.

So I stay still. I lie there, listening to Spencer's breathing time with mine. Hearing our words echo in my ears. Feeling her gentle eyes over a fire.

Wishing we were back there. Wishing we were giggling inside _our_ chairs.

Slowly an easy silence begins to flush over the room. It's so strangely comfortable. Somehow, it calms me. My eyes are growing heavier. My breathing is slowing. My mind's not working anymore. Finally I'm not thinking.

I could fall asleep right here. Right here in my clothes and straight on my back

And then a soft hand rests on my shoulder. A Soft hand opens my eyes. Timid fingers wake me right up.

"Spencer?"

I whisper her name so softly. So afraid it's a dream. So afraid if I say it any louder I'll wake up. Even more afraid that it might be real. Even more afraid that if I speak any louder she'll run away.

But it's not a dream and she's not running away. She's wrapped in her blanket on the edge of my bed.

There's a new warmth inside her. There's a new ease, like she felt the comfortable silence from before. Like she's just as tired and exhausted as me. Maybe she's done with games and running for tonight too.

We stay there just like that, her hand curled over my shoulder, eyes linked, nervous smiles connected. I can feel my breath picking up. I feel my heart pumping throughout my whole body. Her eyes quickly glance over my rising chest. I think she feels my heart too.

Her fingers gently, nervously, stroke over my warm skin. Her eyes never leaving mine. We're not ready to break contact anytime soon.

And I'm terrified.

Yet again we're inside another game, but this is heavier than anything I've ever played before. This is everything. This is life.

This is grey.

She leaves me for the briefest moment, and I watch her every move. I watch with nervous eyes as she timidly joins me on my bed. I swallow hard as she places almost all of herself on top of me. Wrapping us inside her blanket, face resting right beside mine on our pillow. Her hand grabs my waist. Pulling me closer.

Every one of her hot pants sit on my cheek. Just like last night, but nothing like last night. This time I feel it so real. This time it burns inside me. Hotter than any fire. Brighter than any sun.

Her fingers leave my skin, briefly sticking before fully detaching. Her hand hovers over my body, I can feel it shaking. I can feel it in the same way she can feel the heart that's thumping inside my chest.

Her trembling hand settles down on mine. It sits there like it's clueless on what to do next. It still seems lost as it glides up my arm, slowly, fumbling along the way, so afraid to make full contact.

I'm so afraid.

Shy, seemingly inexperienced, fingers trickle over my shoulder towards my neck. My breaths become so heavy, each one hitching in my throat like cars driving over bumps in a road.

It doesn't deter her though, she bravely keeps going. Cradling my collarbone. Thumb sweeping over my pulse point. Sweeping my eyes closed. Changing everything. This isn't a teasing line anymore. We're fishing deep inside a dark sea. We're both starting to bite.

A long pause of nothing gives away our shaking bodies. Our shaking bodies that are slowly trying to still together. Trying so hard the further her leg crawls across mine. The more paths her fingers draw over my skin.

Suddenly she's so close. Her lips a breath away from my ear. I can hear her broken breaths mixing with mine.

This is so much. Too much. I can't swallow. I can't breathe. 

"...Spence..." My voice sounds so worn in. So worn out. She pauses. She knows we're both on the verge of something big, we're both standing on an edge too scary to look over. Her lips are so close, her warm breath breathes inside me. I feel a hot tear drop down my neck. I know it's not mine.

I inhale sharply as she slides over me. Legs falling between legs. Body pressed to body. Head fitting beside mine.

"I don't want to shut you out, Ash." The words are so shaky, so nervous, I almost miss them. I almost wonder if she really said them.

She becomes so still on top of me before her arms slide beneath my body. Before she hugs onto me so tightly. Her hands bunch my shirt against the mattress. Her fingers push against me. She pulls me so close to her. Our bodies fit together so perfectly, so urgently. So desperately.

"Spencer..." My hands timidly hold her hips, so afraid to ask, but needing to know "...what are you doing?..."

Her face burrows further into my neck. Her tears mix with mine. Everything is so silent as she breathes inside me.

"I'm pulling you in, Ash..."

Voice breaking. Hands twisting my shirt, fingers kneading my flesh.

"...I'm pulling you in."


	17. The Bright Roads

Hot fingers shift inside a curved spine. They stroke. They move further down the dented line, tips rolling over each bump, each vertebrae. An instinctive hand slides over a shallow, tiny waist, cupping a bony hip.

Her hip. My hand.

My eyes open.

I'm feeling her. So acutely. I'm breathing her. So completely.

Bodies share a bed. My bed. Faces share a pillow. My pillow.

Sleeping together beneath one thick blanket. We are safe. We are exposed.

We are one.

Her fingers ring my riding shirt between them. Bunching the bottom hem. Bunching so tight. Never letting me go. Through the night, through her dreams, she kept me close. Kept me with her. Kept pulling me in.

Kept true to her words. 

Warm breath pushes past heavy lips. Hitting my neck in the exact same spot with each one. A Chinese water torture of hot broken pants against sensitive skin.

They make my sleepy lips smile.

Lashes tickle my throat. Lashes search. Faster. Desperate. Fingers quickly release cotton, before frantically clenching again. Careful not to disturb the form beneath.

Careful not to disturb me.

Her breath stills along with her entire body. So careful. Eyes still flinch, face still pressed against me, into the curve of my neck. Resting below my chin.

My hand stays right with her. Fingers holding her hip. So silent.

So careful.

Body shifting, her legs slide out from the covers. I can feel it. Her leaving me. Her pulling away. Her going back on her words.

She can't. I don't want her to.

"don't..."

I whisper inside _our_ pillow. So soft. So hesitant. She stills, half under _our_ blanket. One leg between mine. One leg to the floor.

"...don't go."

My curious fingers trace over her goose bumped skin. She waits against me. She thinks. Weighs a decision.

She turns around. She's not so careful. She's smiling.

She whispers.

"ok."

Her body searches for where it once was. Trying to refill it's indentation in the white sheets. It's awkward. It's impossible.

Steps can't be retraced and memories can't be replayed.

But she does her best. She fits her body beside mine. Wraps an insecure hand around me.

Eyes to eyes, nose to nose, lips to lips.

We are one again.

She stares down on my mouth. I stare into her eyes. Catching tiny mascara clumps around them. Following their faded tracks down her cheeks. Ghost of her tears. Footprints of her sadness. Like ice on a dark road.

I feel so safe here. What was so scary in the dark, is only comforting now. Inside the light. Under _our_ covers.

"watcha lookin at?"

Her voice is scratchy. So private. So honest.

My cheeks blush, sleepy embarrassment pushing through my bronzed skin. I quickly laugh, hoping it'll extinguish the pink, as my eyes trail over her cheeks.

Hesitant for a moment, I pull my hand from beneath the covers. I move it from the darkness, driving down an even darker path. It's rocky and dirty. I have my headlights off. My seatbelt undone. Testing roads. Blindly making right turns. Hoping to anything holy I'm going the right way. Hoping I'm going somewhere good. I'm going where I need to go.

"...nothing..."

I pray. I hope. I wish. I need these untouched roads to be safe. I need them to lead me home.

"...just..."

She watches my fingers so intently. Fixes on them tracing above her dried skin. She breathes so hard. The damp air hits my palm. Drips down my wrist.

"...this..."

My callous-less fingertips finally connect with her skin. Her eyes close. Her breath trips.

I follow her tears. Her fear. I relive them. I feel them.

I blend myself in.

I paint myself inside her pain. Sharing it. Pushing her inside me. Sharing everything we both hide so well beneath _our_ blanket. 

"what..." her eyes flick over my fingers, trying to see the impossible "...what are you doing?"

I freeze. For just a moment now. Eyes looking back into eyes.

"I'm..." deep breath, full composure "...I'm pulling you in, Spence."

Everything stops.

She remembers.

Her fear. Her tears. Everything exposed.

I stroke her cheek again. I stroke firmer. I push myself inside her.

"I..." She stutters, she's flushed. My thumb sweeps her lips closed.

"it's ok."

And it is. It really is. I can't describe it. I can't understand it. But somehow, her body beside mine. My skin on hers. Everything is ok. And I don't need to understand it. I don't need to describe it.

Because it just _is_.

"Last night..."

She's trying though. Searching out explanation. Searching for reasons why.

We don't need them.

"Spence...last night..." my thumb follows the slide of her chin, pulling her eyes into mine. "Thank you."

Pulling her inside.

She nods. She smiles a faint smile. One she wasn't expecting. Displaying a mouth no longer needing to explain.

"I'm..."

But mine does. Mine's ready to do some explaining. Explanations that aren't searching for reasons. Explanations that are giving them. To her. To myself. And she's ready to hear them. Her fingers tentatively move across my skin. Swimming through the river between my shirt and boxers.

A deep breath.

"I'm afraid Spencer."

Her fingers stop swimming. Her fear creeps inside. I need to pull it out.

"no, no, no. I didn't...I didn't mean..." A reassuring hand snakes around her back, slides beneath "...I'm not afraid of you Spence."

"oh."

I still need to reach inside. I still need to cover her with my blanket. With my truth. With my everything.

"I'm afraid of losing you Spence. That's what I'm afraid of. That I'll show you who I am, what I've done, who I've been and..." I look down between us, too scared to look inside now. "...you'll leave. You won't want to be..." eyes chance looking, eyes run away again "...you won't want to be here, next to me."

Her fingers hug my chin, they hold me inside, they hold me up. She's ready to talk, to reassure me, to tell me how wrong I am.

I won't let her.

"But that's not the only thing. I'm even more afraid, that'll I'll lose you because...because I don't ask. I don't try to know. There's something buried inside you Spencer..."

She fidgets, she backtracks. I need to find her again. I need to slide back inside.

"hey no, it's ok, I'm not gonna ask. I promise."

She stays. She's relieved. And I am too.

"The thing is, I'm so used to not asking. That's who I've always been. I've shut my eyes to the bad stuff right in front of me. The stuff I didn't want to be true. Because if I just ignored it than it wasn't true. That's what I believed. That's how I saw things..."

Breathing everything possible inside me.

"...That's how I saw Shawn."

Exhaling every ounce back out.

"I never wanted to see her. So I never did. I never tried to know her..."

My chin trembles between her fingers. My composure breaks inside her walls.

"...and I'm starting to believe I never did. I never really knew who she was. I only knew who I wanted to know. I believed what I wanted to believe. I never asked why she did what she did. Why she needed to hide."

My voice chokes.

"How terrible am I? Seriously, how shitty am I? That I just watched her. I watched her drink, I practically handed her the bottle. I watched her snort line after line. I said nothing. I never asked the one thing I should have. I never asked her..."

Rain filled silence.

"...Why. I never asked her why. I never asked her what demons lived inside her. What scary monsters hid under her bed. What she needed to hide from. And it was because I was selfish."

"No you weren't Ash-"

"No, Spence, I was. I was so selfish. I was so afraid. If I asked her those questions, the hard ones, she'd shut me out. She'd leave me. I'd lose her. But what's really awful, what makes me so selfish. If I asked...God, if I asked her those questions, if I faced it, if I really saw her... I'd still lose her. Because I'd see her, and it wouldn't be the same person. I'd finally see her, and I'd lose the only thing I ever knew."

The rain pelts harder against our window. The rain drowns my guilt, washing it away. Giving me air to continue.

"The only person who was anything to me. She was my everything. And yet, I couldn't give her the one thing she needed. I didn't give her what she needed. I didn't give her something to hold onto. I should have been her bottle, her line, what she turned to. But I wasn't, and now she's gone. She's gone and I'll never know. I'll never know what scared her. I'll never know what she ran from. And I'll never know who she was. The girl who meant everything to me. The girl I shared my life with was the girl who just might have been a stranger all along."

"Ashley..." fingers trace my sadness, fingers follow my tears, fingers burn into me, blending inside, "...you knew her." A thumb presses into my words, pushing them back behind my lips "...you did. You knew what she let you know. And that's all you can ask for. That's all there is. You can only take what someone gives you."

And there it is. The truth. Both our eyes watch the space between us, as her words, her truth, rings inside our hypocritical ears.

We're both silent. So silent. For so long.

"I'm sorry Ashley."

My eyes widen. As she builds courage to keep going.

"I don't give you enough."

She's shaking her head, biting her lip.

"No." I pull her closer without realizing it, I need her closer, so much closer, "...please, Spencer, don't apologize, that's my whole point."

Confusion sits inside her eyes.

"That's what I'm trying to get at. I was afraid that I'd make the same mistakes with you. That I'd...that I would ignore what's inside you. I'd ignore the person you really are for who you give me. For who I want to see. Because it's easier, because it's not real. And then I'd lose you, just like Shawn. Just like I lost her long before the car accident. Because I never found her. I never had her to lose. I only had what I had created..." tears slip down wet paths. "...and I don't want that to happen with you. God, I can't have that happen again."

She nods slowly, she understands. She gets me. But I'm not done.

"I finally realize it, though. I get it now, Spencer. I know that's not gonna happen. That won't happen. Because..."

I'm terrified.

"...because you're not Shawn."

It pushes me down a step. She pulls me back up.

It's still there, though. This fact. This reality. Shawn is gone. And something new sits beside me. Someone new. Someone real.

Someone different.

Someone with memories waiting to be made. Someone with love waiting to give.

"I'm not going to lose you Spencer. I know I'm not. It's not gonna happen because I won't let it, ok?" My hand cups her face, so close to mine "...I'm here for you. I'm here for it all. Whenever you wanna give me more to take. Whenever you wanna show me more to see. And I'm ready. I'm ready whenever you are."

My wet warm lips smile.

"I'm ready to meet Spencer."

She smiles. She really smiles. Something lifts so heavy from my chest. Something so tight unclenches my heart.

I can breathe so easy. I can breathe because she believes me. Because I've reached inside. I've finally seeped inside.

"Thank you."

The words draw across my chest. Our bodies, closer than I remember, fit together. So perfectly. Her hand on my back, so natural. My hand on her face, so right.

Everything feels so right. Everything is ok.

"Alright lovebirds..." Anthony kicks open the door.

We all stop. She's frozen into me. I'm frozen into her. And Anthony is frozen in the doorway. For the first time looking speechless.

Speechless till a goofy grin fills his lips.

"Lovebirds, _indeed_. God, I am so always right..." he quirks an eyebrow at me, reminding me of the first time I met him. "...I told you Ashley."

"Shut up ass." Spencer laughs as she throws a pillow at him.

"Oh you both know I'm right..." He watches us watching each other, awkwardness sliding between, and without missing a beat, he builds a dam, stopping it. "Whatever ladies, just get your sexy selves out of bed...we've got a rainy day outside, and plenty of games out here for me to kick your asses in."

Before we can say anything. He's gone, door wide open behind him.

And it's just us. Just us in _our_ bed. With _our_ pillow. _Our_ blanket. And everything laid out between.

She looks at me. I look at her. Awkwardness finding its way inside again. Tension growing between us.

"Well?" She's rebuilding Anthony's dam.

"Well?" I'm helping. I'm handing her bricks.

"Well..." She puts them away. She grabs my hand. "...looks like I'm about to school you in rummy 500."

I'm up on my feet, laughing with her, holding her hand.

"Looks like I'm about to feed you your words Spencer Carlin."

We stumble out into the hall. Linked hands never untying.

Everything feels right.

My headlights flicking on. My seatbelt buckling. The scary roads brightening. The terrain evening. These roads I've turned down. These dark roads I've chanced. I can see them now.

And as she glimpses back, giving me an inside smile, our laughter bouncing off every surrounding wall, I finally feel it.

I finally feel where they've taken me. Where I've ended up.

These roads I've trembled down. These roads I've risked everything on.

They've given me everything I've wanted.

They've taken me exactly where I've needed to go.

These bright roads.

They've lead me home.


	18. The Goodbye

**AN :: Hey guys, just wanted to thank everyone who took the time to read this guy and leave your thoughts. It's meant a lot. Here's the last chapter, it just felt like the right place for this story to end, so I do hope you enjoy it. Thanks again guys, and now onto the ending...**

-------

One thing left.

Just a few minutes now.

My foot hovers over the sand. My toe skids over it.

Any minute now.

Toe pushes through the sand. It traces. Draws.

Etching the letters. Deep inside. Muddy morning light barely shines on them. Barely shows the crisp edges.

The letters. They were everything.

Today, they're not.

The letters are only letters today.

But they still try. They still want to blend in. My past with my present. My old life pushed inside my new one.

Deeply inhale. Breathe in the air.

I can smell them. All my yellow lilies. I see them. All their petals. They're falling. All over me. They're scattered. Everywhere. Pushed inside. Mixing in.

I reach for them. I sift through them. I hold them.

And I rake them away.

Looking over the ocean. Watching the waves. Watching them wind up, pulling back all their strength, everything they've got, before they come barreling towards me. Before they come crashing and tumbling. Spitting and breathing the closer they come to my feet on this shore.

As the water slides up the sand, it dies out, fades away. The waves slide, only to roll back. Retreating. Flushing back inside the dark water.

And then they begin again.

This life I've had. My ocean. My waves. All my waves. They've come crashing towards me. My biggest wave. Almost took me. Almost rolled me back.

Almost.

Only took names in the sand instead. Only washed away letters drawn by salty toes.

Those letters are before me now. The dusky sun begins to paint them clearer.

These letters won't be drawn again. These letters will be taken with the waves soon. And I'll let them stay there, inside the deep dark water.

Where she always wanted to be.

Eyes closing. Breathing deep. Through my nostrils. Inside my everything. This beach. This moment. These waves.

Those letters in the sand.

All the new letters to be drawn. That will be drawn.

Someday.

My toes scrunch beneath me, pushing inside the beach. Becoming one, inside this present, connecting with what's etched inside it.

Eyes flutter open and I see her. I see her right before me. Straddling a board. Rocking with the water. She glimpses back at me with piercing blue eyes.

They turn gray. She becomes a ghost.

Red lips smile. She fades away.

She tosses her wet hair, thrashing it in every direction. I feel the water, her gifts, so softly. She dissolves away.

She looks back again.

So transparent.

She blows a kiss.

She turns to dust.

Blue walls and sky colored sheets wrap around me. They try surrounding me. Try to remind. Try to slide into the grains beneath my feet. Try to blend in.

Try so hard.

But I try harder.

Head tilted back, looking up to the early sky. I push them away. I need to. I have to.

Breathe deep.

Breathe in bonfires. Chaste kisses on my teeth. Moments that slipped away.

Breathe out.

Remember the words. Remember them drawn with shaky fingers into my skin. Remember what they meant. What they mean. What they'll always mean.

Coughing, teary and breathy.

Those words. Store them. All her words. Hold them. Keep them inside a safe.

Make a new safe. One for her. Only her. Give it a tight lock. Wrap her in her afghan. Wrap her so tight. Keep her safe, so safe, inside her blanket. And leave her there. Let her grow dust.

Let let her fade away.

Thumbing away pools of my tears. The breeze picks up. The breeze sweeps, wrapping it's warm arms around me. The sun stretches. The sun yawns.

The letters shine brighter. The letters breathe. They come to life.

I stare at them. Every Sunday afternoon. Every board that slipped from beneath me. Every view I admired.

Fingers stroking mine in the middle of the night.

I will not remember them apologizing.

I will not remember fumbling for phones.

I will not remember grasping at empty sheets.

I will remember hands held. I will remember eyes looking into eyes. I will remember soft kisses, so fragile, so careful. Everything so careful. So meaningful.

Fingertips brush against my palms. Pushing so hard against them.

Feeling the neck of my guitar. Tasting those Budweisers. Finding her eyes.

My heavy head lolls. Seeking solace. Seeking anything. Left with only a bare shoulder. My shoulder.

I will pick up that guitar again. I will make friends with it. I can't let it grow dusty. Forever living inside a safe. I won't let it.

Someday I will play again.

Someday.

Biting my lip. Nodding. I train my eyes on the letters. Temporarily tattooed on this beach. In this sand.

The sun rises, over the water, shining onto me. Onto us.

"Sometimes I wish I lived on the East coast…"

The memory whispers inside me.

"…so I could see a real sunrise."

My eyes stare into the distance. My eyes stare for hers. Finding her. Carrying her. Holding her.

Letting her see.

I kneel down, hands brushing over the lines. The curves. Linking pinkies with a buried and open past inside the present.

A past trying to follow me through the future.

A past that can't.

A past that won't.

"I know this isn't how it should be, how we wanted it...but..."

Breath shaky, voice raspy, eyes squint into the sand then over ocean.

"…but I hope you can still see it. I hope you're seeing it, right now, with me..."

Everything becomes so still. A sea gull in the distance. My own breaths pushing from deep inside my chest. It all becomes so silent. The waves become so distant. This beach becomes another.

For a moment now. For one moment. I'm not here.

I'm there. I swear I am. I hear her. I hear her giggling. I feel it echoing inside me. I see her. I see the sand kicking out beneath her feet.

She's running through the water. Arms pushing, legs striding. Throwing her tall and lean body inside.

She shoots out of it. Draped in a glass cover of water. Her back to me. Hair shaking.

It all stops.

She stops.

Slowly. So slowly.

She looks back at me.

One last time.

She smiles.

One last time.

That toothy left cheek dimpled grin.

And then she dives again.

One last time.

She dives under.

And she's gone.

The waves rumble. The birds sing. The sand crunches under my toes. The letters remain.

I hug my body tight. I buck against my arms. I buck against myself.

She's not gonna push through the water.

And I'm not waiting. I'm not believing she might.

"Goodbye Shawn."

Choked and whispered. Sliding out between slippery lips. Two words taking everything from inside me. Taking my past. My life. Her life. Taking and throwing it out to sea.

Burying it.

One last look.

The letters burn inside.

One last look.

I close my eyes. I breathe deep. Breathe in yellow lilies. Drops of water. All of it. Everything.

Breathe it in.

Hold it. So hard. So tight.

And exhale.

Exhale.

Let go.

My back to the water now.

My back to the past.

My back to her.

I walk away.

I bite my lip.

The beach slows my steps. The sand hugs my feet. It doesn't want me to go. It doesn't want me to leave.

But I kick it away. I push harder. I walk faster.

I walk towards her.

Standing on the pavement, a daffodil in her hand.

She smiles at me. All lips. So natural. So soft. So like her.

A smile so far away from her blue name tag. This smile sits inside a kissing tree. Inside our chairs. Our bed. Our blanket.

This smile sits inside twenty six miles. This smile will only follow me through more.

She doesn't say anything. Just hands me the daffodil. Hands me her flower.

Makes it mine.

She walks with me. She threads her fingers through mine. Strokes me with them. They're not apologizing.

But someday.

Someday, they might.

The waves rumble further in the distance. The waves wash over her name in the sand. Taking it with them. Taking her with them.

I breathe deep.

I breathe in this Nantucket air.

I leave her there. Behind me. I leave everything there.

Twenty six miles behind.

Spencer holds my hand tighter. Spencer smiles at me. She matches my eyes. The breeze blows over us. Through us. Deep inside. Sending our hair to dance together.

I look ahead to the open road.

Twenty six miles before us.

I hold her hand. Tighter. I stare into her eyes. Harder. I smile back. Wider.

Twenty six miles before me.

I begin again.


End file.
